It's not you. It's NOT you.

NOTE: Due to the excess unhappiness with my career expressed in this post, portions have been removed until the problem is solved.

I could become a blackjack dealer. I could move to Utah. I could keep crying here, like I'm 16 and this is LiveJournal and the deep darkness of, you know, life overwhelms me.

I could go tickle Edith and Pepper and blow hamster-size raspberries on their bellies and tell jokes with Mike until we're both so tired we can't sleep. I could keep repeating, "it's not the kids, it's the students." I could offset my negativity with a "today's beautiful new Spanish word" feature. I could just hit SAVE.