Messages

 

 

What the hell.


TGGR, have you got a link handy?

Jesus Christ, man. Those eyes in that last frame of the previous page...those are so great. Also, the ending panel for Nigel's section is really well done.

Pretty much.

Racism, Hate Speech, Intolerance...when people stop judging each other by their religion or the color of their skin we might actually manage to accomplish something other than war and killing.

Yeah.  Probably not, though.

Oh yeah, I know that.  But the tiny optimist I keep strapped in a far corner of my mind needed to have a word.

Damnedest things, aren't they? Not people, but those little optimists in the corners. Most of the time I can't hear mine over the screaming, though.

Mine, too, I think. But they apparently never went through the hippy-dippy liberal stage, so I wonder if that has something to do with it. Though ironically, it's my mother (who comes from the more liberal of two sides) who's the most conservative. My dad's family is traditionally Southern in a lot of ways and he, aside from his Builderberg delusions, is the more liberal one nowadays.

Aren't both our parents Boomers anyway? 1955 is mid-generation, I thought.

I still wish my mom wasn't on it, though.

That was so awkward when my mom had one.

I have one because my friends and relatives are scattered across the country and Europe and I find it easier to keep in touch with them with Facebook.

Yep.  And the "middle" between my generation and my father's generation is most at fault (people that are 50-55 right now).  The boomers get a bad rap.

^ This. My parents are that age (they turned 54 this year) and my father agrees with you there, TGRR.

We've also been sure to have WAY too many kids, world-wide.  Now the planet is turning into desert.

You're welcome.

Or so polluted with toxic chemicals that breathing kills you, one brain cell at a time.

well, do you know any good ones? would be interesting to try it out and make a poll

No, I don't, nor do I think any such internet test would be very accurate anyway. Please learn 2 psychology.

i think your prose is cute, i imagine an angry kitten inside a floating basket, in the middle of a pool, while children play a game of "sink" with water balloons.

Please shut up. You're very irritating and I don't think you know what you're talking about since you really had no idea what co-dependency was.

I remember forensics in high school. It was probably my favorite thing about high school, amid all the bullshit. The whole week I would sit in class and deal with all the bullshit from other students, but then on Saturday morning I would put on my suit and catch the bus whatever school the meet was at. Sweating and nervous I waited, but I had practiced, practiced well. I spoke the prose category, and if you know prose Corv, you know that it tends to be filled with depressing holocaust/cancer/nazirape stories. I always chose a piece that was somewhat funny, if not hilarious, just to break the depressing pallor of the rounds. So I would get up in my suit, and I would read, and once I got started, the nevousness went away. I enjoyed it, enjoyed telling a story, enjoyed reading poetry when I tried that as well. Forensics is probably the reason I can get up before a crowd and speak today, even if it still makes me nervous. And although I only won conference once, and I got second place at a big meet, I felt good about doing it. The only good thing about high school, in all that hell.

Sounds like you did what we call "dramatic interpretation" here on the West Coast. I never liked DI, due to all the "She Said Yes" and rape BS. But once in a while, there was a super awesome one and I think you were probably doing it right when you picked slightly less depressing ones.
And yeah, it was one of the very best things about high school. I did debate and impromptu, plus two types of extemporaneous speech,  national and international. So much awesome.

Very off. I don't think you can be a Discordian and co-dependent anyway.

Also, that test sucks balls.

I just double checked the definition of codependency, and no, I am no such thing. While her approval was somewhat important to me in school, I was capable of surviving without it just fine. Such is still true today and to a greater degree.

I am sticking around for the money, the recommendation letters, and because I want to send at least one of my teams to nationals, even if I don't go for whatever reason.

I'm stubbornly independent IRL, actually. I'm just far too willing to help my old coach, in addition to being unemployed atm and needing the money she's offering.  And I tend to expect recognition for what I do, especially when I do what I do as well as I do it. And I'm bitter about not getting it for all these years. 

If nothing else, I think she'd be hesitant to put someone in charge of a small herd of teenagers if that person were a doormat. I have offended no small number of people by refusing to be that.

I don't know any emo people.  Are they a regional phenomena or something?

You live in Calipornia, yes? They're here, too, but sort of mesh with the hipsters, sort of. Like a hipster and a mall goth had a bastard child with drama queen tendencies.

They are, however, far fewer now than they were five years ago, yes. I think the emo bashings in Mexico in 2008 had something to do with it.

The trio of long-haired teenagers grasped the plaza wall to shield their bodies as hundreds of youths kicked and punched them while filming the beating on cell phone cameras. "Kill the emos," shouted the assailants, who had organized over the Internet to launch the attack in Mexico's central city of Queretaro. After police eventually steamed in and made arrests, the bloody victims lay sobbing on the concrete waiting for ambulances while the mob ran through the nearby streets laughing and cheering.

I must be too available and too much of a whore with my help. I'm very, very good at what I do--my teaching has produced four, almost five graduating classes of winners--valley champions, regional champions, state and nationals competitors, winners at prestigious tournaments like Stanford and UOP. I taught them all LD or public forum debate and you were of little help to them, given that your focus has always been on forensics. And what do I get for it? Absolutely nothing.

I will not be treated like some sort of semi-useful instrument. I don't expect you to be my friend--you're my boss after all and before that you were my teacher--but at least treat this like goddamn business relationship. You ignore me in favor of your other assistant coach when she's around and I was almost your last choice for the job after the last two ran out on you (and funny, you didn't need a second assistant for debate when myself and one of my classmates were here. I wonder what that says?). At this moment, I have no idea why I said I would work for you when you asked. Absolutely none. I should have said no and left you to fend for your team with your other, forensics-based, assistant coach. Mind you, I like Lo Lo and she's good at what she does, but she wouldn't know what topicality or stock issues were if they hit her in the face.
You seem to assume I'm going always going to be there. If shit don't change, I'm not coming back next year and you can find yourself another person so willing to help. Good luck, because you're going to need it.

I was told by three separate kids that you don't work with your debaters outside class and it certainly fits with what I remember--everything I ever did as your student, I did without your help. Every trophy and every point were the products of my own effort without your guidance. I had one--ONE--coaching session with you in all four years I was your student.
I checked on the kids after breaks were posted, I de-briefed them right after tournament on Saturday--you never have, in all the years I've known you, unless it was one of your top teams taking a vicious loss. The tab room does not require that much time and frankly, you claim to hate it anyhow and attempt to escape it any way you can. Except for checking on the kids, apparently.

I will accept nothing but pay and letters of recommendation from you from now on. If it's raining cats and dogs, I'll ride home anyway. I will not attend anything you do not deliberately ask me to attend aside from practice. If you want me at the next tournament, you had better damn well ask me to go (ha, like you will). And I'll get to the school on my own, thank you very much. I'll ride to the school on my bike in the fog and the dark if I have to.
I'm really expecting not to be asked to go anywhere, actually, even if I get one of my teams to nationals (which I will, because I always do). I'll be left here while you and the other assistant coach and my team(s) gallivant off to wherever the hell nationals is this year, even though it was MY work that helped them get there. You'll take the credit, as if you had drilled them, you had critiqued them, you had helped them polish their cases. Always happens that way, always will. I never expected to be invited along when I was just a captain churning out winners, but I should have been getting some kind of sign of appreciation from you then and didn't. I expect nothing different now, because obviously the way you think of me hasn't changed despite the fact I am no longer your student but your employee.

Oh, and that goes for all the forensics kids I'm working with, too. You and Lo Lo will get the credit.

And FUCK YOU for not calling me today. What, was I supposed to magically know you were fucking sick and that practice was therefore canceled? You managed to call a sub--why couldn't you text me at least? Or have Lo Lo do it? Doubtlessly, she knew before you called a sub. You had better have a horrible case of swine flu and had better apologize profusely on Wednesday, or I'll find a way not to have to deal with you if I can possibly help it. I'll pay for all the copies I need or make them at home. I'll do whatever I have to to avoid so much as talking to you unless you have something I want.


I hope I have to eat these words, because I'm so, so done with this shit. And I'll be terribly disappointed if I'm right.

I'm done talking to you. You never fucking listen to a thing I say, no matter what it is and I'm sosososososo tired of repeating myself. I obviously have nothing worthwhile to say, so I'll save my breath and not bother.

Which can be solved by playing paper-rock-scissors.

We're not a very close family, so a phone call usually suffices well enough. No long trips to see relatives who give me Sean Hannity: Culture War or some such shit for Christmas.