All I’m going to say today is this: the song “Tubthumping” by Chumbawamba has been stuck in my head for multiple days now, and it’s verging on antisocial. I keep doing mediocre tasks around the house and quietly singing, “Pissing the niiiiight awaaayyyyy…” under my breath. It’s moments like this that make me thankful for bad weather and being forced into the confines of my house because I am not in a place where I should be around others. But perhaps it’s the shocking lack of social interaction that’s making me this way. I’m not sure. Chicken or egg.

Anyway, I go back to work tomorrow, and I’m frankly chomping at the bit. I’m a substitute teacher and an aide at a little private school and essentially spend eight hours a day with kids ages two to twelve and it’s pure bliss. I love kids. My major in college has nothing to do with teaching or kids, it’s financial accounting, (yes, I’m one of those people), but I still love getting to hang out with kids, and for the most part, they’re pretty great. As someone who firmly believes that they peaked at age eleven and have been going down ever since, I think I get to spend time with these young people at a crucial and important age. Memories are being made, life is being lived, and what is said and experienced really matters. It’s a good reminder for me.

Did you know that the timespan from birth to about twelve is the most crucial for forming and functioning? It’s amazing how much things matter. I guess that can be cool or horrifying based on the circumstances, and it doesn’t mean that you’re bound to what you’re raised by, but it’s incredible how much a one-year-old is putting in the memory bank and deciding to be without even meaning to.

Plus there’s something staggeringly cute about kids that are so recently cognitive and new to the world that they can’t remember their own birthdays and the concept of snow and cold temperatures is so new that talking about the weather actually is a riveting topic. You ask a kid how old they are, and they shrug. It doesn’t matter, but oh my goodness, have you ever seen a worm?? I love it. I eat that up. The world needs more of that. I hate worms, but I mean the concept of innocence and fresh eyes. The world could actually use less worms, I think.

Speaking of innocent questions that kids ask (this post is spiraling out. It has no point), a question that’s been lingering in my mind since I was little is what on earth is Gonzo from The Muppets? No one gives me straight answer. Is the dude a mosquito, or an anteater, or a fly, or an alien, or did Jim Henson drop acid and invent him on a whim? That’s top three questions I’m going to ask God one day when I die.

I love The Muppets. They’re a big part of my childhood. The weirdness, the humor, the music, the super scary one that’s giant and looks like a mop. What’s his name? Oh, I googled it. It’s Sweetums. See, that’s perverse. I love it. Someday, if I have kids, I’m going to let them fry their brains on Kermit and Piggy. It’ll be formative and it will subtly make them into the kind of people I want to be around. Selfish? Maybe.

I’m going to leave this post here for now, might write another one later. No one’s reading this anyway. Do people even read blogs anymore? According to this Reddit post, they don’t, and everything on Reddit is true. But if anyone does happen to read this post, I would be so glad if you could tell me what Gonzo is. It would be a nice break of clarity in these dark times.

This has been a wild ride, a real slice. I have some Chumbawamba to listen to now. Bye bye.