November 4th, 2004

pencil

since I'm already touchy...

It doesn't take much to elicit an "aaaaaugh!" from me at the moment. I rode home on the bus yesterday afternoon with a phalanx of high school kids, and after ten minutes I was thinking sharkins, how do you do this? It wouldn't matter, I don't think, that in a classroom I would have a supposed measure of authority - I'd spend all day every day wanting to kill something, either them or myself.

Although the one non-banal part of their conversation was kind of amusing - a critique of their parents various password options. They came to the topic via someone having had their cell phone stolen (or lost) for the fifth time or so, with a little side detour into identity theft. Which was really little more than self-fulfilling prophecy, considering they divulged the means to that theft at the tops of their lungs not two minutes later. If I'd known any more about them - any of the minutia ones peers collect over the school year, but especially the kind of things teachers know - I'd be well set up for a fairly remunerative crime spree.

It was a beautiful object lesson in both why they tell people not to use family names/birth-dates as password material and why universities come up with those lists of age-based cultural differences every fall. Sometimes I think the main difference between my age cohort and that of my parents/most people's grandparents is people my age and younger expect things to change and be fairly constantly fluid, rather than tacitly waiting for things to settle down and go back to normal (or perhaps "normal").
pencil

(no subject)

I'm sitting here in my cubicle at work, trying to decide if it is worth coming back tomorrow. The little I've looked at the news today has made me heartsick, as I read about the bigots patting themselves on the back for having Saved Marriage from the Queers. Yes, and about all the changes Bush plans to push forward on in his second term, because apparently as Love is Hate and War is Peace, conservatism these days is all about change. I work for the machine that funds this behemoth, and I can't even delude myself any longer about change from within.

I want to know, as an aside, why MY convenient fictions never come true.

I haven't felt this frustrated since I left home for college. It's pretty clear that doing the right thing doesn't work, although I'm still somewhat reluctant to just leap up and start doing the wrong thing. I wonder, sometimes, though. Apparently I am, however, perfectly willing to practice up being a hypocrite. Well, you have to start somewhere.