The Circus Sideshow: “There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.”

Prologue: I have this friend who has kindly brought to my attention my proclivity toward incessant self-deprecation (a quality that I also recognize in myself and that I know to be utterly unappealing but find almost inexorable) —so I hope he (and you) will accept this exercise in attempting to develop my authorial voice by NOT apologizing for my tone as stage one of my rehabilitation and recovery process.  Per the conundrum I expressed in my first blog, I struggle too often to be the voice others need to hear—but now I need to know if what I need to say is even worth hearing.  If I had to evaluate this particular entry, I’d give it a PG-13 for bitter language, blatant first-world navel-gazing, and caustic sarcasm—if any of these characteristics disturb you, run…run away now.  As always, caveat lector.

Step right up!  Come one, come all and witness the bargain of the century—oh, have the fates smiled upon you today!  Right before your eyes, an offer the likes of which you have never seen will be presented to you, my lucky, lucky friends.  Please hold your applause and keep your “oohs” and “ahhs” to the minimum, as this is a very momentous matter.  Be sure that this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity will never find its way to you again, folks, so before you are too quick to dismiss it, look it in the mouth, or puzzle over the “catch”, please realize that this prospect is very, very real and it shall not pass this way again—operators are NOT standing by, so you must listen closely and act quickly.

Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves to be amazed, shocked, and awed!  May I present to you… one large, rare, certified human soul for sale—virtually unblemished at only (shut up) thirty-eight years old, this soul is practically brand new (at least in the cosmic sense), why, it even has that new soul smell!   Friends, friends…don’t leave!  I’m not crazy…in fact, I have never been more serious in my entire life.  This soul comes to you freely and of its own accord, without strings or contracts, for you to do with it what you will.  Do you need an “out” in a crossroads deal with the devil?  Done!  Do you need a spare shot at humanity after a salacious excursion to the city of sin?  Sold!  Whatever, wherever, this soul can be yours today—and it is rock-bottom-priced-to-move for the insanely low, low price of only 100,000 U.S. dollars.  

You heard that right—my soul is unequivocally up for sale and bargain priced at only 100,000.  “Bargain?!” you scoff?   That’s right—in the United States of America, where the average new home price is 275K, a new Lamborghini Aventador will set you back over 300K, and a 72-day marriage to a Kardashian will knock immeasurable millions out of your pocket—you can plainly see that the staggering savings of this bargain-priced soul is a value beyond comparison!!!

Why am I liquidating this soul, you didn’t ask?  Well, for those who don’t know (and, honestly, as loud and as frequently as I bitch and moan about it, I’m fucking shocked that there’s a citizen left in the tri-state area who hasn’t heard): I am an out-of-work teacher.  While I’m aware that this is a woefully familiar tune these days, my story is complicated by a few factors—1) I have two incredible young daughters to raise, support, and somehow empower as they watch their mother unravel before their eyes, 2) I have an enormous debt load (not the product of rampant partying outside the perimeters of my means—simply a combination of my and my husband’s loans, higher-education balances, and basic American citizen living expenses) that threatens to crush my family’s humble dreams and goals (you know, like preschool…and groceries whose first three ingredients aren’t water, high fructose corn syrup, and artificial flavorings), and 3) pardon what will appear as a gigantic ego (you must trust me when I say I have lived my entire life without an ounce of self-esteem), but I am pretty damn good at teaching.  Strike that: I am pretty damn good at teaching—but… that’s not what I’m here to talk about, so maybe I’ll save that for another entry.  For now, let’s get back to the cause of your extraordinary purchasing opportunity!

You see, when I lost my job in 2010, our family income was cut approximately 40%.  We had to eliminate our extravagant lifestyle (you know—the high-life stuff like rollin’ up to Kohl’s for back to school clothes, monthly dinners to T.G.I.Friday’s, and purchasing used vehicles without the rust layer in the wheel wells) and dig deep into our pioneering roots to make our ends meet.  Even though I was fortunate to qualify for up to 99 weeks of the unemployment benefits, my family chose to wait as long as we could (almost three full months), slashing our spending and pulling the plug on our savings in an effort to avoid draining the state system unnecessarily.  When I was finally left with no alternative other than to start drawing unemployment, my benefits only amounted to approximately 25% of my previous salary—hardly enough to help us tread water, but at least we had justenough to breathe. 

I earnestly sought work and, within a few months, I was able to secure four 8-12 week maternity leave placements at four different high schools spanning the next fifteen months.  To be back in the ol’ proverbial saddle was its own reward—I love teaching and I love my subject matter and I love the young people herded through my doors every day; to make it worth their while for having the courtesy to show up is a source of daily inspiration for me.  Though I was only paid daily-substitute dollars, I was able to plan, create, and implement a complete curriculum for the students and manage all aspects of their classrooms, attend faculty meetings, communicate with parents…you know, be a “real” teacher again.  As always, the kids made every single moment worth it, even if the income was abysmal.  (I should clarify that daily substituting paid about 30% less than the unemployment benefits I would have been collecting during this time—but who can put a price tag on a child’s smile, right? Teaching has never been about the money—but seat-warmer substitute wages for full time teaching are pretty insulting.) 

However, more distressing than the revenue was the leaving—over and over again.  Each time I believed that I had established a rapport with the students and faculty and felt like I was finally “home”, it was time to pack up and hit the pavement.  Leaving is never easy, but my last placement was the very worst—kids climbed out of their shells and shed all the preconceived, media-hyped notions of “typical” teenage behaviors to openly share their feelings and thoughts on what they had learned with their time with me…and the emotional outpouring was astounding —and deeply humbling.  But—once again, that’s not what I’m here to talk about, so maybe I’ll save that for yet another entry.

What I need to share is the reason for this soul saving bonanza!!!  The soul sale of the century comes to you courtesy of the crisp, freshly printed rejection and denial of my unemployment benefits by the Shitty-Shits that run the fucking freak show that is this state’s government that arrived in my mailbox today!!!  That’s right, my friends: had I simply sat at home, sucking down Ramen noodles and Yoo-Hoo’s, while watching Maury Povich proclaim paternity all afternoon, then our beloved government officials would still be sending me tidy sums of cash that, at the very least, touched the fingertips of the interest rates that shadow my family’s not-so-slowly-sinking ship as it spirals down the drain!!!  But NO—stupid, stupid me…I had to get off my fat ass and actually apply for work and take the jobs that were available to me and try to make a positive difference because I had a moral code that wouldn’t allow me to suck the state off with impunity!  And here I thought Maury’s guests were the morons, when the biggest idiot of all was staring at me in the mirror every morning!  As Sammy Davis, Jr. would have said: “What kind of fool am I?”  Seriously—what kind of lesson is there to be learned in this corrupt comedy of the grotesque? What wisdom is to be gleaned from this situation?          

*sigh*  Once more, I digress.

Folks, raise your glasses with me in a toast to an American Dream as it crashes and burns around me and mine.  Where I once held a sense that if I worked hard enough and believed strongly enough, nothing was out of my reach, now there is simply a smoldering legacy of emptied accounts and broken bits of wrecked security littered around my family like the charred vestiges of an airliner after a crash.  BUT WAIT…what’s that I hear, pounding off in the distance?  Is it the thumping, beating, writhing heart of corporate capitalism, here to rescue the battered remnants of my petty dreams and bandage them whole once more?!?!  YES!  Of course—I’m not entirely broken if I’ve still got something of value to sell…which, coincidentally, brings us directly back to the soul bargaining table!!!   

I recently wrote something about the evisceration of the human spirit when, in times of desperation, we begin placing the value of our existence in the balance against the value of our life insurance benefits—and the numbing horror of the realization that those you adore would profit more from the latter than the former.  (Shit just got real, right?) 

Ladies and gentlemen, I have learned that there is no cash value in leading a good life and there is no 401K for setting a positive example; there may be no mortgage for the human soul—but I’ll be damned if the only inheritance I can leave my beautiful children is a ratty bag of principles and ethics that this world will all too readily pull down its pants to piss upon.  I will not be able to leave them wealth, but I refuse to leave them ash heaps, either. 

100,000 is the number that would eradicate my family’s debt, replenish its reserves, and set the course for the future that they deserve—so, please: step right up.  Buy my soul—it’s not like I need it for anything—and, much like my old inspiration from Shel Silverstein’s “The Giving Tree”, it is all I have to give.