So I’ve just read the very awesome, Booker Prize-winning novel, Life of Pi. My girlfriend has been urging me to read it for days and weeks, and it is awesome. It’s about a young Indian man who survives 273 days at sea in an open lifeboat with a Royal Bengal Tiger weighing approximately 450 pounds. Parts of the book move extremely slowly. Parts of it move with exquisite grace. There is a moment of supreme silent horror while Pi Patel is still at sea. There is an even more horrible moment when he’s on land in the hospital, recovering from the difficulties of the journey. The novel is deeply beautiful and deeply moving, and Pi’s claim at the midway point that this story has a happy ending is .. not exactly a lie, but not exactly the truth, either.
You’ll love it.
Today is the first day in a month that I have not had to spend 5-10 minutes hacking up goop out of my lungs before getting down to work. I am on the mend. However, I am extremely tired, and I think I’m suffering from post-pagan-party depression. I saw all these wild and crazy friends of mine over the weekend, and coming back to ordinary existence on monday, followed by administering two days of standardized testing yesterday and today, has left me feeling a bit burned out. The year needs to be over, I need to move on to some other crowd of kids, whatever.
After an almost two-week hiatus, my D&D group is meeting again tonight. I am not eager for it to meet, because last time we played, my PCs got fairly kicked around, even with all their alleged skil and superiority. Now they want to go do something else, in a city but half-designed. Ah well.
Comments are due this Friday for all my classes, the students I tutor, and the kids on my sports teams. Uh-oh. Another sixty pages of commentary on kids coming my way, and another sixty pages of only vaguely-relevant or well-formed opinions coming my way to be edited. Yikes.