I like my job.
I like. My. Job. I do. I like the subject-matter. I love that I get to spend all day hanging out with my favorite composers and their biggest hits.
I worry a lot about being bad at it, or being one of the insensitive jerk-face instructors you guys sometimes complain about. Balancing the needs of the many… »
HOLD ON, JUST A FUCKING MINUTE.
HERE'S ANOTHER POST ABOUT THAT THING. THAT THING YOU ARE ALL SICK TO FUCKING DEATH OF HEARING ABOUT TODAY. THAT PARTICULAR THING IS GOING TO EAT UP THE REST OF MY FUCKING FRIDAY.
I GAVE AN EXAM. MORE EXACTLY, I AM GIVING AN EXAM RIGHT NOW BECAUSE THAT ONE STUDENT WHO CAN NEVER FINISH IN… »
Is there an appropriate, socially-acceptable response for stepping in urine in the home of a new business associate? Does it matter if the urine belongs to a small human or a small canine? Or if it totally soaks through the bottom of your sock before your multi-hour return drive, or if it's just a light smattering?
Tomorrow might turn into Fuck Everything Friday. I'm having a hard time keeping it together.
There was some frivolous stupid personal shit yesterday, which I feel like I shouldn't talk about because it will taint peoples' memories of the people involved. But which I need to talk about because STUPID PERSONAL SHIT.
Frenemies: I had one.
We competed for scant resources in a small place, a long time ago. She was clearly my superior and always, always, always won out, so "frenemies" wasn't what I called it at the time - I called it being bettered by a friend. But then she was also the queen of passive-aggressive jabs, so part of the… »
The job market for flutists has been particularly abysmal this academic year, which is ... probably fine, because if I stay in one place I can focus on our combined marital finances. (His were not in great shape ever; mine aren't fantastic after a year of less than part-time work.)
Still, there are ... jobs. The one I'm … »