When you live the life of a hermit, communication skills generally become rather rudimentary. Mine usually ride the range of technology. I feel safe in the world of black and white blinking cursors. There, things are black and white. What I write is what I mean. If there is a suggestion of something deeper, it can be uncovered in the permanent pages. Face to face conversations, and (god forbid!) phone calls, make my life a living hell. Suddenly body language can tell a story that contrasts tone of voice. You can lose yourself not only in the juxtaposition of contradictions, but you may also lose the tried and true signs of attraction—signs which I recently sleuthed the Internet for. (A bit ridiculous? I was desperate. And I flirt like a broken faucet.)
I should have a button that says, “Don’t talk to me. I’m Awkward.” Someone better watch out.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

A Final Word

If I could tell him anything, it would be that:

He has been the best part of my first year teaching.

He made those months bearable (especially during the slow downhill slide approaching spring break).

He gave me something to look forward to at the end of my long, looong days.

He made me realize that it is never too late to modify yourself into the slightly better version.


Before things change, I want these words written down. I mean them just as they are. No edits, no context, no revisions.
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