Considering Carpetbaggery

[Update: Southward-bound Heo departs Microburg in a few days to search for temporary housing in the Major Metropolitan area. Hilarity is almost certain to ensue, as I have already had my heart blessed via telephone, and I understand heart blessings are generally not a good sign. Also, while I am no longer Catholic, I do have a compulsive need to finish the prayer when someone says "Lord, have mercy." Sometimes, I even break into song right after that. But by then I'm off auto-pilot and just being a smart-ass.]


Hey, all! I realize I have once again, very rudely gone AWOL on you. I would have been poor company, I assure you.

Anyway, just this evening I was offered a job ( not CC teaching) on the other side of the Mason-Dixon line. I'm eskeered of the other side of the Mason-Dixon line much in the same way I was eskeered of the other side of the Hudson before I came to Microburg. ( People talk funny over there, and pray funny over there, there be the dragons, those outside the NY metropolitan area seem to think all native New Yorkers are carrying automatic weaponry and Hashish at all times, that sort of thing.) But, the job seems challenging and useful, and if the money is enough for me to be a responsible citizen while being a responsible worker ( and I think it will be), I may be living elsewhere super soon.

The funny thing is that I've been going through my things this past week and throwing away everything that doesn't past the Budapest test. That is to say, if my perfect dream job were to present itself, and I was preparing to move to Budapest to do dream work and spend off-hours drinking among the Magyars and exploring Saint Stephen's, would I be so attached to thing X that I would fly it over with me?

When I answer yes, I keep it. When I answer no, and it isn't furniture, it goes away.

Now, I wouldn't call prospective new suburb of major metropolis (Major metropolis! Yay!) Budapest, but if this job comes through, it'll be a serious move.

Catastrophe Avoided, Stay Tuned for Possible Impending Disaster

All the traveling about searching for employment has taken quite a toll on my finances. In the past 8 weeks I have gone from regular poor to scary poor, and finding summer jobs in Microburg is like trying to win the lottery. At first you imagine all the fun you'll have with your clerk job, and paycheck enough to buy the fancy noodles. But, alas, the clerk job always seems to go to someone else, someone less deserving, less in need. Frankly, you begin to think that dude with the summer job doesn't even really exist. He's a hologram the job people have put up to trick you. There never was a job! They just wanted you to fill out their paperwork! Soylent Green is People!

Anyway, just before I began looking about for places to sell blood, I received a panicked phone call. Someone who agreed to teach this summer backed out, leaving full classes about to start and nobody to teach them. Heo, are you interested, can you help? I thought about it for a bit, examined the peanut butter and jelly in the pantry, and considered the 1/4 tank of gas in the SS Bankruptcy, and agreed.

When the checks roll in, there will be plenty of fuel for me and the SS Bankruptcy both. With the remains I shall buy an island and crown myself queen! Huzzah, Huzzah, Huzzah!

One problem. Summer teaching backer-outer signed up for Three (3) intensive courses. Which begin Monday.

Stay tuned for short, incoherent ramblings disguised as blog posts.*


* Yes, more incoherent than usual. Smartass.

I Can Has Dignity?

If it seems like every other post includes an apology for my absence plus an explanation thereof, well, that's because that's been the pattern around here.

I'm sorry for being such a lackadaisical blogger.

But, man, do I have stories for you.

I have been on many road trips the past few weeks, in search of gainful employment, and oh! the places I've gone!

With brains in my head,
and feet in my shoes,
and gas in my tank,
I went off to peruse.

I began close to home,
not far did I roam,
to another burg that is micro,
as was the salary, alas!
proposed by the ass,
drat! I haven't a rhyme pair for micro.

Then overnight was the trip,
past bridges and tunnels and ships,
that brought me to a safe haven.
But after the second session,
we all learned our lessons,
and I knew it was time to be leavin'.

(Three cheers for sloppy rhyme! Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!)

I stopped home for refreshments,
sleep, food, and a change of vestments,
and drove to a town by another great water.
The water was swell,
I gave Canada a yell,
But was not hired for lack of a daughter.

(I'm not kidding. They prefer their women married with children up there. I was told this expressly. They are clearly not Heo-ready. )

Another stop home for a drink and a nap,
then off I went again, white-knuckling the map.
I took the road out of microburg, and then a quick left,
and saw men in straw hats drive horses of considerable heft.
Amish, where they ought not to have been!
And the house of a minor president!
And a nudist colony!
All in the same small town.
Right on the way to my meeting.
I must now confess,
Although Johannes and Georg were dressed,
imaginings of them as nudists weren't fleeting.

Off to a beauteous town I continued,
where I lost my breath often,
but kept control of my sinew.
Welawey! Say I now,
for I was so desperately cowed,
that I could not give a coherent interview.

And finally, this past week,
Off south again I hent,
past the place where the sight of Amish one expects.
But they weren't there,
and the meeting was bare,
just a secretary and a recording device,
and one Heo, vexed.

Northeast a bit, too.
To a ridiculous zoo,
run by my natural enemy.
A short, squat man,
holding his chest unnaturally convex,
and a major dux bellorum complex,
that I watched kick in,
while supressing a grin,
as I rose when he came in the office.

And the cost of this traveling,
on mind, body and purse,
has been quite enormous,
though less so in verse.

Unemployed I remain,
whether I like it or not.
More travel and meetings
in which I try hard not to be trying.
More questions,
both silly and not,
and, I fear,
a few more Saturdays crying.

But on Sundays, I'm rested,
not so easily perplexed-ed,
and I remember medievalist training.
Patience, indeed,
Perseverance, too,
and eventually stuff won't be so draining!