Name:
Location: St. Vincent & Grenadines

You were driving home in the dark on one glass-slippered heel, window sliced open and bathing in the snowliquor of the night air. We heard you singing, and couldn't bear to wake you.

11 February 2007

My first exposure to the term came in college, in the words of a friend who said, in reference to the architecture of the highrise dorms in which we all lived: "In a feng shui sense, we are all clusterfucked."

"Clusterfuck" would be an awesome band name, but like so many band names (i.e. "Cradle of Filth"), the aesthetics of the terminology are preferable to the reality they may be imagined to describe. When I tell you that I am currently embroiled in what feels remarkably like a clusterfuck, I don't mean to draw a comparison to, say, the people of Darfur, who are in a situation that renders my current inconveniences positively trivial in their impact; still, somehow, despite an awareness of my relative good fortune in the larger scheme of things, I remain terrifically bummed out.

A clusterfuck, as I understand it, refers to the tendency that bummers have to accrue once they get started. So when I was told on Friday afternoon that I would not be receiving a contract for next year in my teacher's mailbox, all the other bummers in the neighborhood -- a neighborhood, I say again, fortunately far distant from those in Darfur -- pricked up their ears and started to roll my way. Now that I'm facing the loss of the best teaching job I'll probably ever have, I also get to experience a sore throat, insomnia, torrential rain, and standing water on the floor of my car via a mysterious leak that has also affected the computer such that the little "bong bong bong" noise, which normally indicates that I've failed to fasten my seatbelt, now continues to sound even after I've turned off the motor and shut all the doors. It's been bong bong bonging for hours now. The battery will probably die. It's Sunday and my mechanic is out of town.

Clusterfuck.

At least there's my DVD player, which, though lately it has taken to spontaneously refusing to recognize the existence of discs inserted into it (alternately claiming "No Disc" and "Bad Disc"), is currently accepting them. I'm taking tomorrow off. I'm hoping it will last through then.

This too shall pass. A few years ago, I lost my first teaching job under similar clusterfucky circumstances, except that instead of having a car that freaked out I had a car that was stolen out of my driveway. Out of that sucky season came the birth of my daughter and a life that led me to a job I liked even better. So who knows? You stay alive and all kinds of interesting, though not always pleasant, shit happens.

"If you're going through Hell, keep going." --Winston Churchill

7 Comments:

Anonymous Also fucked said...

I don't know if it makes you feel any better, but I am also going through a clusterfuck. I just found out that the graduate program I have been working on for 1.8 years, the one I only have seven months left of, the one I've paid $9,000 to, is the wrong program. I was incorrectly advised, in the beginning. I'm supposed to be in a program that will end in a K-12 Learning Disability endorsement, in order to keep my job, which I think is the best job in the universe. Unfortunately, the certification offered is only K-8. There are two certifications which come out of it, and the first one, in reading, is K-12. Which I guess is how the confusion arose? So, you know. Fuck!

It made me feel better that you also get fucked now and then, although that's not to say I'm happy about it. Does that make sense? I want you to be happy, but it makes me happy that we might be miserable together, albeit from a distance.

Good luck with that car thing.

"Don't drownd. [sic] It'll ruin your day!" -Bobby Lee, aka "Dad"

7:24 PM  
Blogger Felix Helix said...

You know what they say: misery loves, um, alcoholic beverages and Netflix. And company, however distant.

Is there something that can be done? Shouldn't the fact that you were incorrectly advised earn you some mercy from the bureaucratic powers that be?

I'm sorry about your current clusterfuckage. Hang in there, drink some raspberry leaf tea, milk your husband for every drop of compassion he's worth, and it will get better. I garawntee.

12:04 PM  
Anonymous Fucked, but better said...

The administrators that be are trying to help me. I don't know how much they can, though. Yes, if the world were a just place, they could help me!

And I can't consume alcoholic beverages at the moment, unless I want to perpetuate the special education industry by producing one more consumer! Darn!

So, yes, misery loves company.

My husband is good at pointing out obscure optimistic facts. Such as: "Isn't Cardinal Stritch the cheapest university around?"
Me: "Well, yeah, and now I know why!"
Him: "No, but what I mean is, now you can transfer the credits and get the degree someplace expensive, but you got your credits for cheaper!"

:) What a goof. Optimist with a capital O.

2:48 PM  
Anonymous geena said...

Wow, Yosha... sorry about the job. Hopefully you'll find something even better. Good luck :)

9:23 PM  
Anonymous Fred said...

Yeah, sorry about the job! Did I say that? Sorry about the job!

4:06 PM  
Blogger Anh said...

I was drinking Maker's last night and had one for you. I hate my job but it's only for another 4 months, and they are not paying me, so I could give a flying clusterfuck. You deserve better Yosh, and I know you'll get it.

4:16 PM  
Blogger Felix Helix said...

Hating a job that doesn't pay ... yeah, the ability not to give a flying clusterfuck would have to be one of the few perks in that scenario. Ouch!

Thanks for the vicarious libation on my behalf, and (everyone) for the good wishes.

5:20 PM  

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