Snow can kiss my ass. I dont really mind it much but I do mind the shovelling. And if certain people want my help getting it done, perhaps they should ask me instead of assuming I know what they need and want at all times.
The real reason it can kiss my ass is because its interfering with my weekends plans. I am driving up to Rhode Island tomorrow to see my best gal. I havent seen her since early September. I dont care how much snow there is, I will be on the road tomorrow morning. Why didnt I leave earlier? Lets see, maybe because I was in China.
Id like to take a moment to vent if I may. Ive been off the plane for four days. In those four days Ive spent most of my time job hunting. I need everybody in my vicinity to back the funk off. If one more person tries to push me, Im going to go on an all star freak out. Ive been gritting my teeth more than usual because of all the ass pains in my life right now.
Also, give me a job.

In Soviet Russia Jobs Hunt You!

Ive run into an ethical dilemna in my job hunting. You see, Im against hunting. It seems like a deer has absolutely no chance against a rifle. The only way the deer can win that fight is if the hunter misses. Now I realize a job isnt a deer, but Im still called a hunter. Can I in good conscience look down the barrel of my resume at a prospective employer and pull the trigger of employment? If I miss, do I have the ability to reload and fire off another resume before the frightened employer runs into the brush?
What most concerns me is bears. I have a fear that at any moment a bear might appear behind me and maul me. To put it in the terms of this metaphor, I guess Im frightened by the prospect of a large intimidating employer sneaking up and hiring me from behind. Is there an HR grizzly bear silently stalking me? Would I know it if there was?
Wading through these comically mixed metaphors, I do come to one serious note. I need a job. And fast. Cause things cost money and theft is frowned upon.

For four and a half years I lived as far away from my home as I could. After a long road taken to college graduation, I set out to the far east to conquer it. I would take every challenge the Middle Kingdom could throw at me and laugh as I crushed it under my mindfoot. I came to learn. To learn the Chinese people and their customs. To study and ultimately master a culture so alien from my own was my goal.

            I traveled across this very large yet homogenous country and came to love it as my second home. Perhaps more importantly, this place came to love me. When I arrived in the late summer of 2006, little did the people of Wuhan know what would happen to them. Little did they know how this modest sage would change their lives. I arrived as a humble teacher and left as a celebrated institution.

            I was touched by the cries of disbelief when my students heard of my leaving. “But Teacher” they would say “How will we ever carry on without you?” And I always told them the same thing, “Don’t you see little Ricky, the magic was inside you all along” But before they could ask me what I meant, I was already gone.

            I cultivated an aura of mystery around myself. An irresistible force that drew the Chinese people to me. Some attribute my popularity to my resemblance to the Buddha. Others say its my animal magnetism. Still others say nobody in China actually likes me, and that Ive imagined this affection. Those people are jerks and they are wrong.

            For my final class, I was startled to discover almost all of my former students had gathered in my classroom to say goodbye. There were almost a thousand people crammed into that medium sized classroom. The overwhelming body odor couldn’t block the love felt in that room. They loved me and I agreed with them.

            There was one particularly articulate and sensitive student named XiaoDidi who came to me and touched my heart. He said to me “Of all the men I’ve known, you’re the first”. With a tear in my shirtsleeve I put my hand on his shoulder and said in Chinese what I later found out translated to “My submarine is infected, please dance with me”.

            So many people have asked, begged even, to know why I would leave this land that’s been so good to me. I can give no answer that satisfies them, leaving me with only the truth to tell. I grew tired of being the only bearded man in a thousand mile radius. Sure there were plenty of mustaches and the occasional woman with five o clock shadow, but it was lonely as the only hirstute man. I had nobody to talk to about my razor burn. There was nobody to understand the complexities of having food caught in ones beard. Nobody to tell me when my considerable sideburns needed a trim.

            So on the morning of my departure, I prepared to say goodbye. I bid farewell to the lady at the vegetable market. I parted with my personal tattoo artist. And hardest of all, I fought through the mob of thousands, perhaps millions, of local residents pleading with me to stay. The hardest goodbye of all is the one you have to say to eleven million people.

            But as I looked down on Wuhan through my little oval window at seat 29A, I saw what was the most touching thing Ive ever seen. The people of Wuhan had gathered in a field outside of the city, under my flight path. Holding hands, they spelled out “China love Dave” in huge fifty foot human letters.

            Dave love China too. Dave love China too. 

Spell Checker

I just noticed the spell checker on this highlights "blog" as incorrect. Is this irony? I think so.

Another One Under The Bus

4 and a half years. Thats how long I lived in China. I had no idea that while I was gone, America would go on living without me. I'm hurt that the people of my home country didnt stop their lives to wait for my return. C'est la vie.
Now that I have returned the job hunt begins. I had a job in China. A pretty good one. I was a college professor. Thats right I got paid to profess things on a daily basis. I hate teaching though. It took me becoming a teacher to learn that.
Perhaps thats not entirely accurate. I dont hate teaching, I just hate students. The vast majority of my students didnt want to be there, and I didnt want them there. It took me a year or so to develop a style of teaching that they responded to. It basically involved me sitting on a desk, making jokes, and asking about their days. To be serious for a second, the less formal structure I used in class, the better my students responded. My plan was to trick them into learning. It worked.
So now I live back in the states, temporarily with my parents. If I dont move out of here in the next month, everyone in this house will die except me and the dogs.
Welcome to my new blog, hope you enjoy it and occasionally laugh.