Ah, the new year. A time for reflection, or perhaps refraction; a time to burn a new leaf, to straighten up and fly right. In that vein, I present a Punk Rock Philosopher Best of 2005 type list. As you may have observed, Punk Rock Philosopher is composed of 10% Catholicism/philosophy, 10% maudlin maunderings in the woe-is-me vein, and 80% stuff which I find funny. Stuff which I find funny is still topical, though; one of the tenets of punk rock philosophy is that the world is filled with absurdities, and that the best way to cope with the absurd is to laugh (alternate methods of coping tend to be more expensive, destructive, or spiritually rigorous).

Catholicism/philosophy:

Easter vs. Christmas
contraception
vocation bunny
catholic guilt

Maudlin maunderings:

a gross story
why meeeeee

Stuff which I find funny:

Time management for the uber-lazy
romantic misadventures (and another, etc)
amazing monkey girl!
in case of emergency
teens in paris
illness of Biblical proportions

I must be the only person on Earth to lose weight over the holidays.

Trust me, you don't want to know why...

My little* brother and I. I'm the one on the left wearing novelty goggles.

* "little" is said loosely

Here is a riff on 1 Corinthians 12:4-11, which I composed in honor of my families' Yuletide health status (or lack thereof):

"Now there are varieties of symptoms, but the same illness; and there are varieties of ailments, but the same affliction; and there are varieties of bodily fluids produced, but it is the same illness which inspires them all in every one. To each is given the manifestation of the affliction for the common bad. To one is given through the illness the malady of diarrhea, and to another the malady of vomiting, according to the same illness, to another headache by the same illness, to another fever by the same illness, to another the ague, to another a multitude of blechy symptoms. All these are inspired by one and the same illness, which apportions to each one individually as it wills."

For Christmas, my students gave me:

• an insane amount of chocolate...I have six or seven pounds of it on my kitchen table, no joke


• some very nice wine


• two scarves, a pair of fuzzy socks, and some gloves


• finally, a pair of Stewie bedroom slippers which say "Victory shall be mine!"

Do they know me, or what?!?! Now I can spend Christmas being fat, drunk, and warm. Mmmmboy.

Oh yes, the world is going to hell in a handbasket. But look! Here I am as a Southpark character!



Yesterday the kids were very horrid, and I contemplated skipping town on the next freight train and playing a mouth harp for spare change, far far from the middle school madding horde. Today, the kids were very good (we created! we discussed!), and I thought to myself "man, this job is awesome." C'est la vie.

A huge thank you to all the dear friends, anonymous commentators and assorted throwers of poo who've called/sent emails/posted comments/whatever. You guys can crash my pity party any time.

I'm fairly bad at verbalizing negative emotions. I'm usually the one who maintains, the one who talks people down...I blame oldest-girl-syndrome. Oldest girls have an instinct to be calm and responsible, no matter what. Really, someone should film an oldest girl documentary. It'll be right up there with "Trekkies."

I've been fairly good at staying calm this week. I've been giving the eighth graders rides to see Narnia (stop sticking your heads out the window, y'all, and no, I don't have a radio, thanks for pointing that out), and telling the middle schoolers to hush during the Christmas pageant (the second graders are trying to sing! SHUT UP!), and even downing a glass of wine or four at a holiday party (at which I met one of the prefects from my freshman year...hunh...small world...but she can't give me hours anymore, bwahahah!).

But now...I feel like...being very negative. Perhaps kicking a chair, softly, so as to avoid hurting its feelings. Perhaps going ahead and drinking that fourth glass of wine. Perhaps smoking clove cigarettes and listening to Bauhaus. Anything is possible.

In all seriousness, though, I feel like I've been partially eviscerated, and then run over with a steamroller. Twice. I shoulda been a nun. Father Michael always said I had a vocation...

BLAH.

Just broke up with the boyf, and there isn't a drop of alcohol in the house. Also, I drank all the eggnog. And I've sworn off coffee. See below. Where's the self medication when I need it?!?!?!

He was a very nice guy, honest, upright, and so forth. We broke up for the sake of hypothetical children (won't someone please think of the children?); he decided that he wasn't comfy with the idea of raising a brood of Papists, after all (being Prot, himself). The prospect of finding one of his general description, only this time in new improved Catholic flavor, just makes my head hurt.

Conversation between the eighth grade boys today...

Boy 1: "I have this amazing ability to distinguish between what is butter, and what is not butter."
Boy 2: "Don't be silly, nobody can do that!"

In other news, I've been coffee free for the past week. This is partly an exercise in Advent penitence, partly an effort to determine what my personality is like in the absence of stimulants. Some people experiment with drugs; I experiment with not taking drugs! Anyway, the effects of caffeine abstention have been interesting. The headaches and sluggishness wore off after a couple of days, and I was left with a sense of uncharacteristic calm. This is good, in some ways; I'm nowhere near as easily irritated (and believe me, life with the middle schoolers can be very irritating). However, I also feel as if my brain cells have settled in for a long winter nap. So, which is better...tense, jittery, and smart, or calm, mellow, and dull?

One of my fellow teachers told me that when he was in the pre-theologate program, he and his classmates would spend their free time flipping through liturgical supply catalogs, picking out chalices and ciboriums and so forth.

I think that's incredibly cute. Priest-boys playing house!

While we're on a Catholic riff, I'd like to point y'all to Godspy. An online Catholic magazine which isn't particularly stupid! Yay!

I recommend: "Why Do Heathens Make the Best Films", and also this guy's account of how, at 13, he thought he was the Antichrist.

My new next door neighbors have a seriously dysfunctional relationship with their dog.

For instance, they have long, pleading conversations with it in the backyard along the lines of: "Come here boy! Come here! Come! I said come! Come here! Come! Come here boy! Bad dog! Come!"

Also, a few nights ago, a commotion of sorts woke me up. This is what one of the neighbors was shouting: "HE PISSED THE BED! THE F*CKING DOG PISSED THE BED!!!" Afterwards, there was some thumping, door slamming, and the inevitable chorus of "BAD DOG! BAD DOG!"

These people would obviously be better off with an iguana.