Marc
Pleasant Hill, California
Part One: Have you ever gone to your favorite bookstore and eyed that one history book that was big and burly and complicated-looking, and thought to yerself, "hey, I'd like to try reading that someday" but that day never really seemed to be the day to do it? You know what I'm talking about. You have that favorite book you like to think about buying, but you never do, because it's too grand and too thick and too much. You'll never have the time, you tell yourself. You're even a little afraid that you may not be able to get into it, and what whould be the point of buying this big, thick, expensive book if you may not actually read it?***1***
I took the plunge about one-point-five months ago and bought this book that I had eyed for, like, years -- Richard Rhodes' The Making of the Atomic Bomb. I always would flip through the pages and scroll through the strange, foreign-sounding (and truthfully foreign) names like Szilard, Frisch, and Fermi, and I'd looked at some of the diagrams and read some of the scientific mumbo-jumb0***2***, and I was always in awe of this huge, endless, suffocating book. I always thought that I should buy it, but was always afeared that I may never actually finish it.
And I haven't. Finished it, that is. Yet. But I'm trying. About 150 pages to go. Couldn't be more into it. And I'm not just trying to convince myself of that. The history behind those two bombs that we dropped on Japan is unbelieveable. Almost fiction-like in the story's scope and plot twists -- jealous scientists, conniving countries, the fear of spies both internally and externally, war, death, destruction, doom, and so on. I highly recommend it. Not the easiest read, but well worth it.
Part Two: I've been bummed lately. The working world is catching up with me, and I'm not quite sure how to handle it. I underestimated, I think, how hard it would be for me to procure myself a teaching job in the coming semester. Said semester started this week at most American schools (or Illinois schools, at least). I'm not at one. Instead I'm back on the ol' travellin' horse, shacked up in some fancy hotel digs in the Bay Area, California. It's fine, I guess. I'm luckier than most people in that I have a job, and even though I didn't get the job that I wanted (teaching) I still have a pretty awesome, steady, reliable incoming (networking). So, that's it. I'm stuck on the road for another year. And then that's it. I'll take care of my debt. I'll get back in the saddle, start job-search #2 in the early early early part of winter (or before) and eventually say "so long" to the road.
Wow. I've never actually thought of that before. I'm going to be off the road by May of next year, no matter what. I'm getting hitched. It's official. I'll be hitched by this time next year. Fuck the road. I'll use it for the next few months as a stepping stone to a teaching career, and come hell or high water end up in some school district next year with some form of a teaching job - full-time, part-time, or substitute. I don't give a rat's ass, to be perfectly honest. I just want to be off the road.
The road doesn't allow you to do simple things like go to the doctor if you're sick, or eat a weekday meal with your woman when you're lonely. The road decrees that, no matter who you are or what you are doing, you are a slave to the road for the amount of time that you are on the road. Your eating habits conform to the road's working schedule. If it's rush hour and you're stuck in traffic and you're hungry, you're fucked because you're not getting to a restaurant anytime soon. If you have to do your business (you know, your business) you do it when the road says you can do it. You find an appropriate destination where the business is allowed and do it there. If you can't find appropriate grounds, you hold it. That or you pee in a container whilst driving.***3***
Stupid road. I hate thee.
***1*** You hate it when you go to other people's living quarters and look at their bookshelves and ask how such-and-such a book was, only to hear, "Well, I haven't actually read it, yet."
***2*** I'm terrible at science. Barely made it through biology in high school, and got a "D" in it in college.
***3*** Don't ask.
Pleasant Hill, California
Part One: Have you ever gone to your favorite bookstore and eyed that one history book that was big and burly and complicated-looking, and thought to yerself, "hey, I'd like to try reading that someday" but that day never really seemed to be the day to do it? You know what I'm talking about. You have that favorite book you like to think about buying, but you never do, because it's too grand and too thick and too much. You'll never have the time, you tell yourself. You're even a little afraid that you may not be able to get into it, and what whould be the point of buying this big, thick, expensive book if you may not actually read it?***1***
I took the plunge about one-point-five months ago and bought this book that I had eyed for, like, years -- Richard Rhodes' The Making of the Atomic Bomb. I always would flip through the pages and scroll through the strange, foreign-sounding (and truthfully foreign) names like Szilard, Frisch, and Fermi, and I'd looked at some of the diagrams and read some of the scientific mumbo-jumb0***2***, and I was always in awe of this huge, endless, suffocating book. I always thought that I should buy it, but was always afeared that I may never actually finish it.
And I haven't. Finished it, that is. Yet. But I'm trying. About 150 pages to go. Couldn't be more into it. And I'm not just trying to convince myself of that. The history behind those two bombs that we dropped on Japan is unbelieveable. Almost fiction-like in the story's scope and plot twists -- jealous scientists, conniving countries, the fear of spies both internally and externally, war, death, destruction, doom, and so on. I highly recommend it. Not the easiest read, but well worth it.
Part Two: I've been bummed lately. The working world is catching up with me, and I'm not quite sure how to handle it. I underestimated, I think, how hard it would be for me to procure myself a teaching job in the coming semester. Said semester started this week at most American schools (or Illinois schools, at least). I'm not at one. Instead I'm back on the ol' travellin' horse, shacked up in some fancy hotel digs in the Bay Area, California. It's fine, I guess. I'm luckier than most people in that I have a job, and even though I didn't get the job that I wanted (teaching) I still have a pretty awesome, steady, reliable incoming (networking). So, that's it. I'm stuck on the road for another year. And then that's it. I'll take care of my debt. I'll get back in the saddle, start job-search #2 in the early early early part of winter (or before) and eventually say "so long" to the road.
Wow. I've never actually thought of that before. I'm going to be off the road by May of next year, no matter what. I'm getting hitched. It's official. I'll be hitched by this time next year. Fuck the road. I'll use it for the next few months as a stepping stone to a teaching career, and come hell or high water end up in some school district next year with some form of a teaching job - full-time, part-time, or substitute. I don't give a rat's ass, to be perfectly honest. I just want to be off the road.
The road doesn't allow you to do simple things like go to the doctor if you're sick, or eat a weekday meal with your woman when you're lonely. The road decrees that, no matter who you are or what you are doing, you are a slave to the road for the amount of time that you are on the road. Your eating habits conform to the road's working schedule. If it's rush hour and you're stuck in traffic and you're hungry, you're fucked because you're not getting to a restaurant anytime soon. If you have to do your business (you know, your business) you do it when the road says you can do it. You find an appropriate destination where the business is allowed and do it there. If you can't find appropriate grounds, you hold it. That or you pee in a container whilst driving.***3***
Stupid road. I hate thee.
***1*** You hate it when you go to other people's living quarters and look at their bookshelves and ask how such-and-such a book was, only to hear, "Well, I haven't actually read it, yet."
***2*** I'm terrible at science. Barely made it through biology in high school, and got a "D" in it in college.
***3*** Don't ask.
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