I'm feeling depressed. I've been browsing through the jobs section today, looking for something new. All of them seem to want either someone younger than me, or someone with slightly more experience than me. I AM STUCK. I had a complete fuck up of a lesson this afternoon. I was doing some work with process writing with my Academic English crew, and I had the bright idea of using the Honda 'cog' ad - you know, bits of car banging against other bits in wonderful sychrony - as I thought it would make for a good bit of writing about processes - how the ad works, how the ad was made etc. Proudly clutching my DVD plus equipment, I go into class, plonk it on, and voila - nothing. The bloody machinery is on the blink. An hour of cursing and kicking ensued. visits to the IT dept and the library finally found me grabbing hold of a DVD player, which sullenly refused to work until I had threatened to pour treacle over its circuit board. And did my students appreciate all this? Did they fuck.........That's why I need a new bloody job. I have now taught at every level of EFL and pretty much every variety of course: standard classes, housewives' specials, academic stuff, exam bloody practice, Polish workmen, every bloody thing. I need a new challenge!!!!! I'M BORED!!

Dear friends far and near,
Please enjoy a taste of the sanctimonious kitschy bollocks I sometimes get sent......
This is from someone called Tasha, from a site called heartwings.
Dear Friends Near and Far,

Heartwings says, "From moment to moment the pleasure of the present moment may change, yet it always remains joyous to the heart."

The subject of this week's Newsletter is Transformation

Spring clothes the outdoors with beauty. The miracle of transformation that brings us from bare branches to the tender colors of emerging leaves takes my breath away and brings joy to my heart. The older I become, the more poignant Spring seems to me to be.

My neighbor was working in her garden. On this lovely Spring day, as I crossed the lawn to speak with her, I was caught in a rain of apple blossom petals. A light breeze sprinkled both me and the grass with pink abandon. I felt both sad and happy at the same time. Even as I admired them, I regretted the fallen petals.

If only it were possible to halt their diffusion, to keep them on the tree. Yet there is no fruit without the sacrifice of the petals. In order for something to be born, something else must die. The blossoms that drift across the landscape are tomorrow's fruit. The green leaves that clothe the branches now are next Spring's compost. Spring must be enjoyed in the moment, for it cannot be captured or prolonged.

This day reminds me to embrace the present moment in all its beauty. It also whispers that whatever I lose as the moment passes will be replaced by something as fine if not finer. I am comforted by the thought that while the blossoms of Spring perfume the air, as they become applesauce, the apples of Fall will fill my home with another fine scent.

May you enjoy the blossoming landscape and find pleasure in each present moment of the Spring.

Blessings and Best Regards, Tasha Halpert



Hmmmmmmmmm.........pass the sick bucket, someone. Pleeeeaaseeeeee.

Oh, bugger it all.

I'm stuck for inspiration. I've been faffing around all morning, wondering what to do with my students this afternoon, apart from torturing them with electrodes. Nothing comes to mind. I hate these low ebbs of creativity. Sure, I can photocopy something out of a book, but duh. It's dull. A dull class = bored students, and bored students learn bugger all. Also, I find that this strange sense of inspirational idleness makes me feel down.

feel shit. I didn't sleep at all last night.

I must, I must, I must improve my blog.......or rather, I should write more. In an idle moment or ten, I browsed other blogs here, and felt strangely heartened by all the teenagers scribbling their hearts out. All the 'life is wonderful, I watched a tree full of rain and nearly cried for joy' stuff, all the ' I hate xxx. I love xxx. I will die' stuff, all the 'I am a great poet, just noone knows yet' stuff.....just goes to show, we all go through it. Hey kids, here's a tip I wish I'd learned sooner: everyone is afraid, even the shiny-toothed Beautiful Ones - all you need to do is work out exactly what it is that they're afraid of. then you'll have the buggers over a barrel and the world will start to make more sense. That, or have a doctor regularly drain you of excess hormones.

Oh, the joy of marking exams.....I can't be arsed doing this job any more, I really can't. I have now been an EFL teacher for ten years (tenth anniversary in August to be exact) and I am utterly tired of pulling the same rabbits from the same hat to the same gawping faces. Don't get me wrong, I like my students...mostly. I'm tired of the job, that's all. Also, I'm actually being paid less in real terms than I was earning four years ago, and then I was in a developing country with a crippled economy! The question is, what else can I do? I'm a teacher, so I have good person and time management skills, I need to keep to deadlines with things like classes, producing results, marking exams etc....I'm fluent in Turkish, can understand quite a bit of most Turkic dialects and languages, schoolboy at French, but I can analyse pretty much any language...Actually, I'm fairly confident that I could master most tongues that could be thrown at me.......I've been DOS of a large school, handling the needs of 2000 students and 30 fractious, highly intelligent English teachers, plus dealing with the little things that happen at a language school, like alcoholism, drug dependency, madness and suicide (and, no, I really am not joking here...)......I have excellent literacy skills, proofreading abilities.....I'm a good actor, and I have a damn good voice..................c'mon, there's got to be a job out there for me!

For any teachers who may be reading this....try this site - it's an internet classroom and it's free! I'm still getting the hang of it.

Oh well, back to work. I'm not actually teaching until this evening, but I've got a hell of lot of admin shite to do - stuff like photocopies, reports, exam prep and marking blah blah blah......The weekend was pleasant, spent digging the garden and visiting people. It is with a slow accretion of dread, like watching the sea come in over sandflats, that I realize that I'm increasingly turning into my parents. Why? I hate it. This steady process of homogenisation seems to come to us all. As long as I avoid wielding a moustache. Or baldness. Or Laura Ashley print frocks.
I took part in the National I.Q. test on Sunday night. Despite being drunk, I still scored 66 out of 70, giving me an I.Q. of 140 (on a scale out of 149). Yeah, right. So bloody what? Look at me, for God's sake. Brain the size of a small county town, and I'm earning less than a toothless beaver on a logging farm......right. Time to do some work.

Bluh. Hungover. Rain. Must eat LARD.....