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So I just found out today that I'll have about ten teaching loads this semester. That's a lot and it scares me a little bit. Am I up for that much work? Last semester, I only had three. I do take teaching seriously and I'm not about to turn in a half-assed job, but am I ready for this kind of commitment? I feel that I am but I am afraid...of putting in that much effort for something which can be quite frustrating. Teaching college students how to think for themselves and take initiative? Not easy, I've learned the hard away, and I could just as easily get frustrated and disillusioned by it all, if I let my emotions get in the way. As always and in every aspect of my life, the question I face is: How do I get involved without getting attached? Emphasis on the involved bit because detaching myself from situations is what I do best.

Detachment. While we're on the topic, let me say, with probable traces of ego, that I am the most detached person I know. There are only two things in the world that I know of: the idea of a thing and the actual thing itself. Although I am frequently exposed to the actual, to the existent, I am seldom moved by them. All my actions, reactions, most of the major decisions in life that I made, the things that I say are propelled by the idea. To put it simply: I don't like you for you. I like you for my idea of you. And this is how I remain detached because most of the time I don't see you actual but just the idea, and as long as there is no great contradiction between the two, I am content and I can tolerate almost anything from you.

Now, speaking of tolerance, there's another thing I'm good at. I've had people telling me to my face, and telling other people right in front of me, that I am kind. Or more specifically, good. The term actually used is "buotan" which is Bisaya for "good" or "kind." I think they meant that I am tolerant. I am not quick to judge. I am critical, yes, but I don't get personal about it. So they think I am kind and good and tolerant because no matter what they do, no matter what they think, I don't blame them for it. But it's not tolerance, for tolerance's sake, see, because the attitude springs from my general detachment. It's not that I approve or disapprove of your actions, it's just that I don't care. That is the unadulterated truth, folks.

And then here's another truth: I care about some things. Or rather, my ideas of them.

This has been a pretty eventful week. Aside from the above-mentioned piece, two of my extended families have each received shocking news from their respective family members. I won't get into any specifics because that would be telling, but here's the thing: I love my parents and I think they raised all of us siblings well. My mother says the most inane things and can get irritatingly preachy but I've recently discovered that she knows more than she lets on. My father is a self-righteous bastard but he is right in almost everything so, after all, he has every right to be. And they are the best parents one can ever hope for and aspire to.

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