Journal

Sin Auld Lang Syne	1/4/2025
It's hardly two weeks into the new year & we've had a student taken out in handcuffs already, alongside myriad mass threats. While I will not discuss my job here often due to its sensitive nature, I am employed at an alternative school that serves remanded (i.e. you fucked up to the extent that your school removed you - this could range from zero-tolerance policies on vapes to assaulting another student), SPED (special education), and transitional (foster situations) students. I, too, was an alternative school student - although this is advantageous in terms of perspective and pedagogy, there is nothing that can prepare an individual for the underbelly of the American school system. In short, I have seen more traumatic events in less than a year of employment at this location than a lifetime of my own and my peers' severe behavioral problems throughout elementary, middle, high school, and college combined. I cannot begin to express what witnessing the mass neglect of our youth has done to them. The extreme behaviors, the overwhelming apathy (and who can blame them - it's self-preservation, more often than not), and the significant learning gaps are harrowing. I never intended to be in a classroom, and while I often consider myself fortunate to be a favored point of contact for my students, I cannot remain in this environment for any longer than I must. As I told EC, I am - without going into too much detail - ethically, pedagogically, and personally incompatible with what our education system has become. Even higher education (my beloved) is not free from this pervasive intellectual and social rot. The harm done to my students both at home and at their school keeps me up at night, and I worry about what will happen to those for whom I often intervene (more so in student vs. admin incidents - they have made their sweethearts & their scapegoats evident) when I leave. Moving forward with my PhD applications & job searching is a bright spot in my present day, but this anxiety is burrowed deep within my skin, gnashing at my nerves. A mid-January...moodboard?

Sin Auld Lang Syne

1/4/2025

It's hardly two weeks into the new year & we've had a student taken out in handcuffs already, alongside myriad mass threats. While I will not discuss my job here often due to its sensitive nature, I am employed at an alternative school that serves remanded (i.e. you fucked up to the extent that your school removed you - this could range from zero-tolerance policies on vapes to assaulting another student), SPED (special education), and transitional (foster situations) students. I, too, was an alternative school student - although this is advantageous in terms of perspective and pedagogy, there is nothing that can prepare an individual for the underbelly of the American school system.

In short, I have seen more traumatic events in less than a year of employment at this location than a lifetime of my own and my peers' severe behavioral problems throughout elementary, middle, high school, and college combined. I cannot begin to express what witnessing the mass neglect of our youth has done to them. The extreme behaviors, the overwhelming apathy (and who can blame them - it's self-preservation, more often than not), and the significant learning gaps are harrowing.

I never intended to be in a classroom, and while I often consider myself fortunate to be a favored point of contact for my students, I cannot remain in this environment for any longer than I must. As I told EC, I am - without going into too much detail - ethically, pedagogically, and personally incompatible with what our education system has become. Even higher education (my beloved) is not free from this pervasive intellectual and social rot. The harm done to my students both at home and at their school keeps me up at night, and I worry about what will happen to those for whom I often intervene (more so in student vs. admin incidents - they have made their sweethearts & their scapegoats evident) when I leave.

Moving forward with my PhD applications & job searching is a bright spot in my present day, but this anxiety is burrowed deep within my skin, gnashing at my nerves.

A mid-January...moodboard?

Sin Auld Lang Syne	1/4/2025
Good start to the new year thus far; EC & I have spent the majority of it out of town, debauched, and otherwise in excess of all things as we see fit. Still glad to see the holidays gone and will be impatiently waiting for the crowds to ebb so I can comfortably re-emerge. Met up with lovely C to watch Nosferatu and it was as we all imagined: erotic and gluttonously tragic. I have also spent a great deal of time in classic WoW - the rebooted servers, that is. I’d leveled a shadow priest prior, only to discover that there is a debuff cap on the boss and, thus, they are not a desirable DPS when other DoT classes are much stronger. I’d rather eat my own eyes than heal or tank in WoW, so I re-rolled frost mage & have had a significantly better time (and with less corpse runs.) Cheers to what I hope will be a gentler year than 2024.

Sin Auld Lang Syne

1/4/2025

Good start to the new year thus far; EC & I have spent the majority of it out of town, debauched, and otherwise in excess of all things as we see fit. Still glad to see the holidays gone and will be impatiently waiting for the crowds to ebb so I can comfortably re-emerge. Met up with lovely C to watch Nosferatu and it was as we all imagined: erotic and gluttonously tragic.

I have also spent a great deal of time in classic WoW - the rebooted servers, that is. I’d leveled a shadow priest prior, only to discover that there is a debuff cap on the boss and, thus, they are not a desirable DPS when other DoT classes are much stronger. I’d rather eat my own eyes than heal or tank in WoW, so I re-rolled frost mage & have had a significantly better time (and with less corpse runs.)

Cheers to what I hope will be a gentler year than 2024.

Last Year's Words, Last Year's Language	12/26/2024
By mid-January ‘25, I knew this would be a shit year. I am not certain how to explain how I knew it would be a shit year. Perhaps it was the breath of 2023 still clammy upon my neck, bringing with it a prolonged spell of post-graduate unemployment, a sharp decline in my mental health, and an election year in the throes of mass global crises. It did not get better; it got worse. I will mourn little to nothing of this year, and while I would—in a less dismal world—look to 2025 for the prospect of new, greater beginnings, I cannot help but to look at it instead with dread. Realistic dread (or, rather, that based in pattern recognition and an enthusiasm for the humanities), but dread. That is not to say that I am lost to it, nor to wholly bemoan this year—there was happiness (primarily between myself & EC), and there were successes to be had (some curricula vitae-building opportunities, a bit of travel, etc.), but none that could supercede losses both personal and political. I am fortunate that EC has been open to commiserate and that, more often than not, our nihilism leans productive when we are together. It is surely greater to deny inherent meaning and seek to create it—even in despair—than to eschew it entirely, doubly so when the latter is at its most tempting. A little holiday cheer. I don’t know what to do with the impending new year but to survive it. That is easier in some regards than others, but it will be done. TLDR: Maintaining hope is a Sisyphean-level struggle.

Last Year's Words, Last Year's Language

12/26/2024

By mid-January ‘25, I knew this would be a shit year.

I am not certain how to explain how I knew it would be a shit year. Perhaps it was the breath of 2023 still clammy upon my neck, bringing with it a prolonged spell of post-graduate unemployment, a sharp decline in my mental health, and an election year in the throes of mass global crises. It did not get better; it got worse. I will mourn little to nothing of this year, and while I would—in a less dismal world—look to 2025 for the prospect of new, greater beginnings, I cannot help but to look at it instead with dread. Realistic dread (or, rather, that based in pattern recognition and an enthusiasm for the humanities), but dread.

That is not to say that I am lost to it, nor to wholly bemoan this year—there was happiness (primarily between myself & EC), and there were successes to be had (some curricula vitae-building opportunities, a bit of travel, etc.), but none that could supercede losses both personal and political. I am fortunate that EC has been open to commiserate and that, more often than not, our nihilism leans productive when we are together. It is surely greater to deny inherent meaning and seek to create it—even in despair—than to eschew it entirely, doubly so when the latter is at its most tempting.

A little holiday cheer.

I don’t know what to do with the impending new year but to survive it. That is easier in some regards than others, but it will be done.

TLDR: Maintaining hope is a Sisyphean-level struggle.