105, and not the way I wanted it.

So I hit 105 last night. It's not as pleasing as I thought it would be.

First, I hit it because of all the stress lately. I've been tired and slagged out, and dragged through the damn mill WAY too much at work. I don't know whether the school folded or not and at this point I can't care about it anymore. Fuck it all on that kid. He could have done more work, he could have smoked less weed, he could get the mental help he clearly needs. My administrators could grow up and not hold grudges against kids who cause trouble, that also could happen.

Fuck it. I'm in charge of Jack and Shit, and Jack left town.

So I hit 105. Through stress and starving, and I didn't even realize it. I sat down to think about what I had eaten this week... water, diet soda and maybe a few cookies.. a bag of carrots here and there. No yogurt. No apples. No meats or cheese. No dairy. This is ridiculous. So yeah, I'm skinnier. I also look like shit. Bags under my eyes, stooped shoulders, I honestly look like I'm dead.

Fuck life. I'm not letting my dumb ass school depress my any longer. I'm going to find another job, closer to home and get a dog.

Two new class ideas under my belt: Evolving America (how the American identity shifts through the historical epochs it faces on it's march to empire) and American Culture in the Jazz Age (looking at both the glittering shiny brilliance of the gilded era and the tragic nightmarish destruction of the metal under the gilding). I'm a genius.