Finality

I write this with no clear purpose in mind, nor any place to arrive, as it has been a long hard few months.

Money depresses me. I have been, for most of my adult life, bad at managing it, bad at living within my means, bad at disciplining myself to fix either of these.

My career, such as it is, depresses me. I don't seem to have one. I have a part-time job that pays badly, which I took to supplement my income as a substitute teacher, and if it seems as though that is a regressive step in my career as an educator, that's because it is. Despite a year of subbing, five years experience teaching, professional certificate, and a visit to a job-fair, I am no closer to having a job in the local public school system than I did when I left my cozy but un-lucrative private school job last June.

If this all sounds un-familiar, that's because I've rarely talked about it. I do not enjoy talking about myself, because the things I do on a daily basis are deeply unsatisfying to me. I am as mum when my wife asks me how my day was as when my parents used to ask the same question in middle school. I simply can't talk about it, because it reminds me of how much I hate it (you'll note I don't mention what my part-time job involves).

And if I hate my life, isn't that my problem? Yes, it is. My problem, and my fault. I am an educated man in a free society. There is not a soul on earth who is responsible for my lot in life other than myself. If I am to fix my life, than I first must fix myself, and become the man who can get the things I want.

That means making serious decisions and sticking to them. That means cutting away the loose ends of things that do not matter. Which brings me to the subject of addressing my six readers, and telling them that it's time to kill another blog.

Okay, so I did have a purpose in mind, I guess. But when I wrote those words, I was still deciding.

As I've mentioned before, this blog has never been what I've wanted it to be. Again, this redounds to me, who either badly concieved it (a weekly blog? please) or badly executed it (might as well have kept The Notion going, for all the good the switch did me). But the fact is, I'm never going to be able to join the blogger big boys. My heart is just not in it, so why continue the charade? I haven't continued it for three months, and what, two months before that? I believe my sub-concious is trying to tell me something.

I write this after spending a couple of days re-joining the blogosphere, as it were, catching up on all the amusement that the back and forth can offer. I've called out a jihadist and threw a stone at the notion that men are traditionaly "afraid of commitment". And it was fun. But I don't really have time for the full conversation. And if that's the case, why pretend that it really means that much?

Plus, Blogger is annoying me. this is the second time I've had to reset my password through Google. Sure, it's probably an automatic 'bot employed against we lazy posters, but it's still irritating. I'm not about to support another layer of code between me and my dashboard. So stick it, Google, you commie rag-picker!

And that is that. I'll leave the beast up here, for none to enjoy. If ever I pick the digital pen up again, it will be with a narrower purpose, and perhaps with some more credential behind me. And it will probably be on typepad.

Thanks for reading. I'm going to fix a few things right now.