I took last week off from work, both to avoid the confusion & malady that was the DNC and its various road closures that would have made my commute both troublesome and potentially dangerous (it is my experience that, on the whole, Obama supporters are awful drivers), and to give my brain the necessary rest it required to be able to function as the organ responsible for my thinking. During said time, I thought very little. The decompression required for my mind to return to full capacity was potent enough that had I put together a single cogent thought with regards to logic, or programming, or writing, or politics, surely my skull would have collapsed entirely.

That said, the day before Labor Day this year can be marked as a turning point. Though it’s off in the distance, I’ve started the wheels turning to get me into a teaching position. This will require limiting hours at work, a full class schedule for a couple years, and then the headache of trying to find work.

This is not a new thought for me. Teaching has always been in the back of my mind a meaningful position, a vocation with which I could actually afford pride. I had always thought that, if I ever made the jump to such a space, I would do so under the auspices of the English language–in literature or composition–but it has occured to me that such a leap would be disingenuous. While I love the language and all its miserable rules, I don’t think my passion would transfer to a student body. The quirky English teacher is a tough act to create.

The quirky Physics teacher, on the other hand…

America needs more scientists. And I am on my way.