It’s good to have those ≥90ºdays in the rear window so soon after winter. After years of appropriately wet seasons whose inclement weather patterns persisted into late spring, the two-week heatwave that scorched the Southwest at the beginning of the month was an alarming development to say the very least. Still, missed are the lingering heavy rains that make the roads wet, and waft Petrichor-heavy breezes throughout the Bay Area. If this is a sneak preview, I shudder to think of what summer holds.
Weeks like these make me question the rationale by which I entered this profession just over a decade ago. I don’t know if it’s the heat, the recent intensity in news cycles, or some other unknown mounting concern, but the herd has become comparably ungovernable to a few months ago. Profanity, eating in the classroom, plagiarism, defiance, blatant fucking dishonesty, I’ve given more trash duty slips in recent days than the combined academic calendar of 2024-25. Perhaps this is an indication of growth in my profession; after all, I started out as a pushover, “the cool teacher”, but perhaps time has rendered me more aware, more privy to the shenanigans of those who would seek to take advantage of a young, novice teacher.
And with two weeks until the beginning of a decidedly delayed spring break, it’s safe to say that I’m at something of a breaking point currently, and a reprieve can’t come quickly enough.
To amplify this pressure, the commitments I’ve made for Lent have shaken my resolve. Having given up social media (no big whoop…I planned to delete all of them), video games (holding out for RE9), television (again, no great loss here), and ha-ha, which is the worst to bear. The man at the pulpit, the youth group summer counselor, and Saint Paul himself all seem to think that by simply entertaining fantasy, you’re transgressing greatly against God’s plans. Among a list of fluctuating grievances, this is one such issue that has persistently caused me perennial grief. Yes, the notion of covetousness as a sin is understandable unto itself, but why is the consumption of materials, which cause no harm to anybody, such a slight what it means to be a good Christian man? At one point, it was explained to me that the very industry by which such tensions are relieved is rooted in exploitation and runs contrary to God’s design…I can’t deny this… But even with that said, there are so many potential loopholes to this thinking. What if the person on the other end is doing so out of enjoyment and hasn’t been harmed by the process? What if the other party is enjoying whatever she’s doing in this industry? The Bible never speaks ill of these longings, but at the same time, such knowledge doesn’t mitigate the weight of loneliness and uncertainty that comes with it. I don’t presume to be right in these opinions, but at the same time, the Biblical logic (or at least in the fundamentalist sense) never makes sense. After all, don’t the experts point to such practices as a form of relief to the systems, by which certain cancers are prevented?
At the deeper level, it just underlines the sort of longings that were never met, or at least never to my satisfaction. I’ve longed for the love of a beautiful woman more than anything in my life, and to know that God has thrown every conceivable fucking blockade in my way to prohibit the consummation of this joy. On that note -and this is by no means a fucking boast, no matter how it reads- I’ve rejected many well-intentioned women as they did not fulfill this criteria I’ve upheld since boyhood. By no means did I ever want a beauty queen, but rather somebody with whom there was mutual attraction and a sense of stability. All of my friends seemed to achieve this easily, but for me, given the fucking faulty neurochemistry and my seeming to never have the right words, this never happens. And it doesn’t seem as if my circumstances are too far-fetched. After all, that’s the way of things, right? Gen-Z and some millennials (myself included) are rarely in relationships at this juncture of history, and those who are tend to divorce or fall apart. But as I pray, I cry, I do the best I can to become a better version of myself, it seems as if God has deafened Himself to me. I hate that this is my motherfucking lot, and even more that nobody seems to have anything to say regarding my misfortune in this department. Am I so awful that the God I revere dismiss my attempts? Do I have to fall for the fat girl, the plain girl, the girl with a borderline personality disorder to patch up this eternal wound? Am I sinning so gravely in longing for what’s not there? There is very little hope in this regard, and nothing’s changed since my twenties. I’m the only cunt I know of who’s paid for dating coaching, and nothing’s even come from that. It seems as if my life is only a matter of settling for shit. But the Lord’s way is perfect, and perhaps there is some greater divine cause as to why this fuckery seems to befall me at every blasted turn. But if our prime directive is to be fruitful and multiply, and God Himself decrees at the start that it is not good for the man to be alone, then why does He torment me so? Am I just simply a coward? Do I scapegoat? If this is to be my trajectory unto death, then I invite God to remove my head from my shoulders in one fell fucking swoop. In that eternal Kingdom, I won’t have to worry about this nonsense any longer. I just feel like shit about the entire thing.
…I’m done.
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