Over the weekend I picked up several comics at Player’s Choice, a mecca for nerds of every stripe. Player’s Choice, Bass Pro Shop, and a high-end piano store are pretty much anchoring the one majestic Myrtle Beach Mall, which otherwise looks like the eerie mall level from Left 4 Dead 2. As I noted yesterday, the “resident comic book guru” took the time to walk me through some comic selections (which, to his credit, resulted in another $30 or so in sales for his store), but it was by complete happenstance that I stumbled upon Hawkworld, a three-book miniseries (later expanded into multiple issues), which I snatched up for $7.
Last week was an exceptionally busy one for yours portly, with a number of duties and responsibilities intersecting at once. I’m sure many readers have noticed this phenomenon, but there is a decidedly cyclical nature to workflow; indeed, it’s almost tidal in the manner it ebbs and flows: I can go for two or three weeks enjoying a fairly placid schedule, only to have a couple of weeks of intense activity. Everything seems to come to a head at the same time.
That’s particularly true in education, a field that is structurally cyclical, with regular intervals of heightened activity baked into the calendar. The third quarter ended Friday, marking the beginning of the end of the school year (fourth quarter—that last, mad dash to summer vacation—starts today). That means last week was a flurry of finalizing grades and writing report card comments.
My school requires unique, individualized comments for every student, and though we teach (on average) fewer students than the typical public school teacher, we’re expected to go above and beyond. Because my colleagues and I were scolded as a group for comments deemed inadequate (for the record, I always write exceptional comments), I decided to double-down and write even more ridiculously detailed comments. Our registrar read through them Friday morning (after I worked furiously and late into the night Thursday to finish them before the weekend) and said, “I felt like I was reading a novella.” Mission accomplished.
That’s all to say that I’m very tired, so I thought this Monday would be a good opportunity to offer some brief updates.
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This weekend I’m down in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, with my family. With the exception of last year, we visit Myrtle Beach every March because it coincides with the Myrtle Beach Marathon, which my older brother flies down to run (after running the full marathon one year and starving while we waited for lunch at Sea Captain’s House, he has since decided that the half-marathon is a more reasonable distance).
Even before my brother’s career as an amateur long-distance masochist, we have been visiting Myrtle Beach as a family. We used to come every summer for a big South Carolina Public Works convention, so Myrtle Beach’s tacky neon charm holds a certain nostalgia for me. These annual visits are not just a wonderful opportunity to spend time with family, but to relive the glow of childhood nostalgia.
The rest of this post may be delayed, as I am—as the preview noted—in Myrtle Beach with family. Don’t worry, subscribers, I should have it finished soon. —TPP