A working day in paradise

Today was a harder day waking up, having not reflected last night. My recent routine of watching movie summaries did not work and I ended up sleeping remarkably late. A sluggish monster slides within my sleep, covering my brain with a murky slime, dulling my words. My stomach often sags in the morning, the unbalancing of my belly leaving a deep hole that sinks time, energy and even hope. 

Saying all this, my strength is better than before, my immune system winning its January war. I am busy today, but not so busy as I may have once been: Dubai was an aggressive partner who demanded perpetual attention, an investment of energy and spirit that might be better given to my hobbies. 

Reports are due this week, but the number of reports I need to have written is still far smaller than before. 

I am to be observed next week: this is the easiest observation scheduled for an inspection I've experienced. Usually this requires 20+ pomodoros of diligent work with tight lessons etc.  

The marking due this week is far less than a usual day in Dubai. 

I do not have to live in school longer than I need: those days of working in an empty floor on a small computer have passed. The aggressive deriding of others by that man can echo within the walls of his small office alone. 

At any point I am able to walk or swim this day as I wish with little to fetter my desires. 

I can breathe deep again, and feel my muscles soak with oxygen as they once did. The need for space and stillness, of ego dropping continues. 

Holding the inner and outer together

Occasionally a wave of bottomless uncertainty, that dirty wave of others outside me, crashes into the sandy foundations of my imagination, washing away some grains of discipline that I have collected. That erosion threatens the mental integrity of me. The rocks of time, hewed over decades of life and mined from millennia of thought, form some of the foundations of my mind, and the ivy sinews of creativity build interesting walls and intricate depth in the halls of thought. But always, that depthless uncertainty threatens to wash away the stability of my imagination, and cause me unnecessary ill-health, leaving me a weary and thin man. 

That I lack the discipline of the mind seems clear to me. Can I sit with my imagination comfortably, and form again the visions my privilege grants me? Do I retire to sleep with excitement once more? The possibility of me building back the discipline that I once enjoyed is possible. I have the stability of income, of hobbies and a network, of work and a partner. These might help me build my base of health once again. The usual methods of discipline - a fear of work, a fear of consequence, the anticipation of punishment for sins once enacted - these all seem to be ways of disciplining that I need no longer rely upon.

The 'strength' of aggressive bosses in the past seems weaker now, of firing with thoughtless impunity, of delivering meetings with machine-gunned instructions, of fearing parents of the bosses above: these are experiences of the past that echo with me now, but no longer with harmony. They have quietened, discernibly. Far louder is love.  

Fear is an animal that seeks to survive. Its furious scrabbling attacks others, defensive claws slashing any softness, be it flesh or hope, it matters not. 

Discipline seeks me to control and invest the energy that might pass into my body into the finite time left on this earth. 

The books I might seek to write, and the teaching I might seek to do: all requires a discipline that embraces the uncertainty of outcome.   

I find myself a little healthier than before. That is perhaps enough to build on the days ahead. 

Time, Space, Privilege

The privilege I enjoy now exists because of difficult choices I have made. 

My strength returns about a bout of illness: I hope that next January I do not suffer the same. 

I do not need to start new hobbies when my pursuits from childhood might instead be enriching enough. 

My imagination is shaky at times. 

When speaking to others, perhaps I could be clear about the concepts I want to express, and to connect. 

 

Not overinvesting

I sat in the first meeting of the new year with less vexation than before. I usually feel somewhat deflated after such meetings, the sharp apathy of some folks puncturing my ambition. But this time any sharpness bounced off my mind, rebounding with... 

First day of 'Less is More'

Perhaps some 'essentialism' might help my daily living. 

An old boss loved this book because it justified her unique approach in education. For her, essentialism was ideal for her leadership role in education, one that justified her imposing systems that were crushingly effective in creating conformity. 

My essentialism is different: is about not doing 'too much' in this moment, in the now, and instead attempting those pomodoros over time. 

Some truisims: 

1) If something is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.

2) We underestimate what can be done in a year, and overestimate what can be done in a day.    

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From a young age I felt the absurdity of the corporate rat race, of that life seeking a career dependent on the favour of others. Yet I lacked economic means of independence and choose to take the nearest job available in Hull, a cover teacher in a failing school. It took me weeks to be chewed up, masticated by an industry I had no intention of joining. Being munched by education was character building, and stays with me even now: I entered an environment I was entirely unsuited to suffering and attempted to outwill it. That did not work, and I suffered, attacked and abused by a demographic of students and parents I had no idea existed. 

But I sit here now, aged 40, and able to see to a clear past. I was 25 or so when I began teaching formally. Another stint like that I will be in a formidable position. 

37k divided by... 195 = 190GBP a day (excluding weekends). 

On average, 3.5 lessons. 1 pomodoro each marking. 

About 23GBP an hour or 31 USD. 

If I figured out how much I was getting each hour in Dubai, it was likely 25-30GBP an hour. A huge amount for my lifestyle, but still not worth the expense to mind and body. 

_______________________________

Do I want to write like Brian Taylor? A blog?   

Accept that the 'value' of 100s of USDs of supposed consultation is perhaps snake oil. It might suit someone's purpose, somewhere, somehow, even if that is not to get scammed in the future. 

_______________________________

Finished my MA: What Next?

Since 2017 I have studied for an MA in education, investing my finite private life into academic study rather than potential hobbies for nourishment. I finished the final essay yesterday, and although the official results are to be decided in June, the final results will likely stand. 

Several things run through my head: 

a) When I finished my literature degree in 2004, I felt a mixed sense of accomplishment and 'could have done better'. I could not have done better on this, unless I had somehow travelled to Bath, and been more proactive in seeking other folks on the social media group. Both required extra investment, and both promised no returns. The 234 pomodoros I completed on the final dissertation were enough. 

b) I have the mind to complain and fight back against whatever mark I received. But in reality, I think that a sardonic take on the experience will sit better, if I give any take at all. This leads us onto my next point: 

c) I feel I have overinvested my body and spirit, and have been overinvesting my essence for a long time. Although it is possible to create something from nothing in terms of business, love and laughter, time and physical energy are finite, and cannot be manipulated. 

d) With this eye towards the finiteness of life, look at myself now, nearing 40, and wonder what kind of lifestyle I might enjoy? 

Here are some options: 

Retiring at 55, purchasing a house, and living a creative life. 

That appears to be the only option palatable to me at the moment, perhaps because it involves 'doing as you are now' until I reach 55. I mean, by that time I might be on an extra 30k a year. 

e) My taste in what makes a good or bad essay at undergraduate level is underdeveloped, largely because I never saw any. Higher education academics refuse to leave themselves open to judgements of quality or accountable if those judgements are reached or not. Therefore, the mechanics of what I am doing are largely invisible, and the teachers unwillling or perhaps unable to explain what they might be.  

With that in mind, I intend to walk away from higher education. What do I have? 

a) Music: distinctly amateur, although perhaps I might take this a little more seriously with some professional lessons etc. 

b) Writing: writing while teaching would require a disinvestment in teaching I am not quite ready for. 

c) Reading: reading for me is tied into imagination, medication, feeling, people... all things I at times take for granted.

d) Gaming: Could be something useful, but this does not feel like it requires a health cost, plus I do not trust that gaming is a worthwhile use of my time. 

e) Hobby painting: As above...

f) Work blogging: I think that I am perhaps at the end of the road for The Quill Guy. I will write a final post: I started it because I did not have anyone to talk to about how I approach teaching. 

Why do I consider what is 'useful' or an 'unuseful' usef of my time?  

I am in a pleasing position to judge or not judge myself in the now. 

To pull back more: to restrain: to speak less: to give less: this all seems an ideal approach and desire. 

Let me reflect on this philosophy more tomorrow.    

  

  

The Day Before A New Year

For many years the months of January and February cast dark clouds over me. They are meant to be the hardest months, testing the emotional and physical state of Western teachers like me, blocking the healthy rays that I usually seek. 

This is the first Christmas holiday I have not had to read or write my MA. In fact, I have enjoyed four weeks of holiday, finishing Follett and embarking on Lord of the Rings. I have: 

Inner: Finished The Wire; Learned some good solos (Sweet Child) and got back into the 40k hobby with some better painting. 

Outer: Aside from the last days of the holiday, I have seen a fair few people, including new gaming folks. I enjoyed meeting Grace's family and generally engaged with the world in a fair and ideal way. 

Body: I swam most days, growing bigger pectorals whilst maintaining 71.5kg with little diet and much cake. 

I can perhaps reflect more precisely on my weeks... is that possible? 

 

Reflection on Last Week: 

Interestingly I became more 'relaxed' in my time as the week went on, perhaps due to my hobby of painting to a film. 

Inner: Completed my reading and writing habits all week, finished The Wire and completed Lord of the Rings. 

Outer: Spoke to Ryc, Kerry and Brian; organised G's brother's CV, checked my school email each day. Cancelled a range of socials, but at least I made them. 

Body: Swam lengths all days but one, and did eight lengths on exercise days. Drank gin on Thursday and dropped off the other days. Did not overdo chocolate or snacks on the other days. 

Work: I did nowt. 

Should I reflect on my week just gone? 

Let's aim to focus on the week ahead: 

Inner: Reading every day, perhaps hitting another 2:30 hours through Lord of the Rings... 

Outer: Some video chats with folks...? Needed? 

Body: Swimming at least four lengths on the key days. 

Work: A calm start with marking completed as I choose... 

Not Overgiving

 I can safely say that I overgive, overextending myself in myriad ways. Typing that made me want to jump on social media to consider the ways I overgive. 

Finishing the MA made me wonder this: I have no judgement as to how good the final dissertation might be. However, I do seek the opinion of experts. Is this balance between self-trust and expert-seeking ideal? When I passed through the final door of university, I felt absolute certainty in my judgement. Moderations in school have attacked that certainty, perhaps revealing how my certainty was not helpful. 

I am not a hollow man, but I am a man with deliberate spaces. 

Imagination is not easy because it can lead to some terrible anxiety and even insanity. 

Whenever I want to alleviate the worry of insanity, I merely think about work... 

Can I engage once again with my imagination, and manage the fear of chaos and insanity? How about I do not overgive in that journey?

A year?

This morning I lay in bed a little later than normal, but still eating breakfast and relaxing at 8am. I remember not too long ago reading 'all' of my Xmas holiday. That made me ill. In fact, I am often ill in January.  I do not have to be ill now.  I have some space after my MA that I intend to enjoy (that is, now). 

A balanced life is desired in 2022, including for my loved ones like Grace and my other family. 

I read the above as five distinct ideas, with no priority. But deleting the spaces makes them into a distinct paragraph. 

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A few days into the new year and I am enjoying a new energy: do not overgive. 

Overgiving... in my time to the day, in my money or food, or in my emotional investment. 

As a middle class white man, I often overgive, my emotions washing against the metal box of expectations given to me as a pretend gift by others. 

It is time for me to meet others. 

What kind of goals might I set? Let me swim first.