when oppenheimer spoke those words, it was the day after the first nuclear explosion. what he was getting at was that he had given the world the power to destroy itself, for the first time. before that day, it would have taken days, weeks, even years to kill every person on the planet. and a day later, it would have taken minutes. now that’s progress.

why am i thinking of this today?

two reasons. i’m a huge proponent of the disproportionate response. i believe that the solution to world conflict is the rule of the steel fist (pun intended) and the wielding of fear in the form of nuclear power. and that people are too afraid to use it as an effective tool.

but that’s not today’s real point.

yesterday, my life was decimated. and now i must attempt to rebuild from the ashes. but there’s radiation everywhere from the blast.

they expect me to move on, to take the year that i have devoted to this place, pick up the pieces, and create a new life.

as if that is possible.

but let’s take a look at what’s happened in the last year.

the most destructive event, you already know about. and i’m not ready to write publicly about it. but it was death in the most brutal sense. and it is the one thing in my life that i would truly give anything to reverse. including my life. but it would do no good. she is underground and there is no going back.

but beyond that, i ended up in a new city with the promise of acceptance. and was then torn from it, as if it was unimportant. red tape threatened to strangle me.

but i survived.

torture in the guise of employment followed. real torture. i don’t think you understand how much i would have preferred dental surgery or thumb screws. but the money was needed.

and then real acceptance.

i was thrown a lifeline out of the depths of despair, a ladder to the profession that i have striven my whole life to attain.

the program was useless but it’s a question of hoops. and the students were wonderful. my fellow students, although i will never think of myself as a student, really.

and then there was the rug. the one underneath my feet that has been summarily yanked from its place.

but i am still standing.

not much good it’s doing me, though.

even wrote this standing up, just for effect.

it is done.

it is over.

i am finished.

no, i’m not going to die. or hurt anyone. i’m simply going to have to spend the rest of my life wishing that people were more intelligent. that people didn’t want to hurt me so much.

let’s look at it for a moment.

when i was four years old, i made the most important decision in my life.

“i want to be a teacher”, spoke my innocent, treble vocal chords.

and i was right.

i wavered from that exactly never. i have been a teacher all my life, inside. helping others, groups, friends, even enemies. until i had a classroom of my own. and when that was taken away, my students protested, complained, and some even cried. like me.

and i swore it would never happen again. i’d teach where teachers were needed.

where i always wanted to be, anyway.

teachers are often soft, weak people. not all of them, but most.

they teach because they have no other options and they are lost.

i don’t.

i’m passionate about teaching in a way that the word doesn’t convey. i love teaching in the way that others love living. in the way that others love physical attraction. but they don’t understand.

i’m not one to lose this fight. this is only a setback.

but it’s a setback from which my emotions will never recover.

mark my words, this day is the day when potential happiness became potential lack of sadness. the bar just got lowered.

and they tell me that i’m the worst candidate they’ve got.

you’ve been looking for a good example of collective blindness?

mission accomplished.