I wonder sometimes about I how approach the daylogs. I’m not noding the important stuff that’s happening in my life, stuff that you’d think I’d be just itching to type out all my introspective thoughts on, like the funeral I went to Saturday. But instead I end up writing daylogs about days full of random insignificant (in the greater scheme of things) events. Like today:

Interesting conversation with my boss today (when I wasn’t skipping out of the office for walks over to Cooper Hall at random intervals). It seems one of the VPs is wondering if I’m going to stay on for the rest of the year. Granted, she probably doesn’t even know my name off the top of her head, but it does make me wonder if I’m being groomed for a promotion. Not the April raise/title change (which is more paperwork than anything really meaningful) that I’m already getting, but a window office, gold staff parking tag, health insurance and pension plan promotion. Probably wishful thinking, but it only further makes me realize that I need to a lot of hard thinking about my future plans instead of coasting. Coasting’s been pretty good to me so far, all things considered, but I can’t rely on it forever. I enjoy what I’m doing, and I don’t mind low pay, but I don’t want to be dirt poor when I’m my father’s age (one of the many reasons I’m not a public school teacher) and I occasionally daydream of a career where I can shoot at people, especially when my students don’t even fucking know who Joseph McCarthy is.

Bought two more dress shirts and a tie today. I really am going to be dirt poor if I keep this up. I am, of course, trying to impress a girl, and I should just go ahead and get shot down before I run out of cash. It is a bit strange for me to show up to class in a tie, but I can pull it off by saying I’m coming straight from work (true, but I don’t mention that I dress up on Wednesdays more than usual). Now she’s not the type who’d be attracted to DKNY wear and superficialities like that, but let’s be honest, I’d be making a much different impression wearing corduroy pants and my tattered Marvin the Martian T-shirt. Clothes make the man, and being dressed like a god – or at least Regis Philbin - certainly can’t hurt my confidence any.

So I’m sitting here cranking Eminem (Will he go to the Grammys? Who gives a fuck?) and reading Plato’s Syposium for class tomorrow when I get a /msg from dem bones. Not just a message, the message. I’ve been drafted and now I’m an editor – a complete surprise, honest! Like I said to bones, Xmas has come quite a bit early this year. I guess I have to stop noding for numbers now. I feel like I should make some sort of speech ("I’m going to be tough but fair…") but I can’t think of anything to say. So watch out, soon I’ll be unleashing some editorial badassery. But not just yet. I haven’t even figured out where the fucking kill button is yet.

"’Cause I’m Gamaliel and I’m the real Gamaliel and all you other Gamaliels are just imitatin’…"