Tim Hatch: Educator. Author. Tired. http://timhat.ch Sat, 26 Nov 2022 18:21:10 +0000 en hourly 1 http://timhat.ch/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/cropped-favicon-32x32.jpg Tim Hatch: Educator. Author. Tired. http://timhat.ch 32 32 Turkey Pot Pie (No Crust) http://timhat.ch/turkey-pot-pie-no-crust/ Fri, 25 Nov 2022 19:26:39 +0000 http://timhat.ch/?p=3067 As the autumn air crisps and the leaves turn to hues of gold and red, I think back to my childhood, when my grandfather would take me to the fishin’ hole and we’d laugh and bond over our special time together and whether we caught anything or not, it was always a good time because...

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As the autumn air crisps and the leaves turn to hues of gold and red, I think back to my childhood, when my grandfather would take me to the fishin’ hole and we’d laugh and bond over our special time together and whether we caught anything or not, it was always a good time because we knew we’d be returning home to my grandma’s blue ribbon turkey pot pie, and each bite would warm the soul, and

This is a fucking recipe, not a Hallmark movie.

Ingredients:

  • .3 cup some butter (or oil, fuck it)
  • 1 onion diced
  • .3 cup some flour
  • .5 teaspoon some poultry seasoning
  • .25 teaspoon some thyme
  • 1 cup some chicken broth
  • .6 cup some milk or cream
  • 1 potato diced and cooked
  • 1.5 cups some frozen vegetables defrosted
  • 2 cups some leftover turkey

A quick word about the seasoning: Those crossed out measurements are for white people who are terrified of flavor. The closer you are to that, the more important those become. For everyone else, just eyeball it.

Directions:

  • Preheat oven to 400°F.
  • In a medium saucepan, cook onion in butter over medium heat until tender, about 5ish minutes. Add flour, poultry seasoning, thyme, salt & pepper. Cook for 2ish minutes more.
  • Whisk in chicken broth and milk a little bit at a time stirring after each addition. It will be very thick at first but will smooth out. Bring to a boil over medium heat and simmer 1ish minute. Remove from heat and stir in turkey and vegetables.
  • Spray a 9″ pie plate with whatever cooking spray, or go old school and use butter (except probably don’t). Fill with glop from the previous step.
  • Bake 35-40 minutes or until lightly browned and filling is bubbly.
  • If you’re feeling particularly decadent, grate some Parmesan over the whole thing and put back in oven until GBD.
  • Cool for 10-15 minutes a bit before cutting.
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Satanic Swamp Ass http://timhat.ch/satanic-swamp-ass/ Tue, 18 Oct 2022 02:19:52 +0000 http://timhat.ch/?p=3048 I’m sick, and I should either be in bed or writing an essay for my doctoral program, but I’ve just been through a mile of ICK and I’m sharing it with you. And of course, it all starts with Cooper, seen below looking guilty of something or other. We’ll get to that. So Coop is...

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I’m sick, and I should either be in bed or writing an essay for my doctoral program, but I’ve just been through a mile of ICK and I’m sharing it with you. And of course, it all starts with Cooper, seen below looking guilty of something or other. We’ll get to that.

What’s up buddy?

So Coop is an old man. We’re not sure how old he is, but it doesn’t matter. His body is old, and one of the recent developments is he occasionally pisses in his bed at night. And then you wake up and smell it, and it’s on him, and he smells of it, and you have to give him another fucking bath, and you have to wash his fucking bed, and this most recent time, his cushions were pee soaked as well, so I tried washing those after I washed his bed, and that’s when I learned the lesson to just never do that:

LESSON LEARNED

That was this morning. So, I cleaned out the drier and then spent the day in bed whining about being sick. Late afternoon, I put a load of my wife’s laundry in the washer, and about an hour ago, I come back and the machine is flashing an SC error code and her laundry is completely wet. There’s still water in the tub. So I consult the Google, and apparently this means the drain thingy underneath the front-loading door is clogged with…SOMETHING. The Google says to open the drain door, uncap the drain hose, and to be sure to have a large container for it to drain into. I never question the Google, so I get a large bucket and do exactly that. And this is what happens:

Holy shit balls.

I’ve heard the term “gray water” for decades now, but I’ve apparently never experienced gray water. Turns out it’s a polite euphemism. Like “friendly fire.” This is not gray water. I mean, it literally is, but it’s also Satanic Swamp Ass water (#satanicswampass). It’s the smell of collapsing democracy while we all wonder who The Masked Fucking Singer is.

It smells really terrible. Holy shit balls.

SO THEN, the Google says I have to turn the drain filter counterclockwise and pull it out, and if there’s any debris, to clean it, using a toothbrush if need be. Then rinse, replace, and everything should be good. So, I turn the thing counterclockwise and pull it out and scream like a girl. I’ll remind you, that this all started here:

what?

So I take the drain filter over to the the sink, grab the protruding mass, and pull. AND IT ALL COMES OUT IN ONE HORRIFYING PIECE. If you’re still reading at this point, what happens next is your fault:

yeah…a fucking TOOTHBRUSH

This monstrosity is larger than every toothbrush. I should’ve put a quarter next to it for perspective. A quarter could easily hide under the bulbous part on the left side. That is dog-bed-cushion guts, a decade of dirt and debris from dirty clothes, and HAIR. This is what little demons are made of.

And the fucking smell of the thing. It made me wanna stick my head in the bucket of #satanicswampass water. I don’t have a nice, poignant ending for this.

what?
dad?
dad??
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Life, Death, Anxiety (Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety…) http://timhat.ch/life-death-anxiety-anxiety-anxiety-anxiety/ Tue, 09 Aug 2022 04:35:27 +0000 http://timhat.ch/?p=3028 I really needed a break. I’m reading over my last post (from the end of last year), and I’m talking about wishing the years would stop having body counts, the fact that I hadn’t weighed myself in a few weeks, and my inexplicable new lust for chocolate. Even shit chocolate. I was also beating myself...

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I really needed a break. I’m reading over my last post (from the end of last year), and I’m talking about wishing the years would stop having body counts, the fact that I hadn’t weighed myself in a few weeks, and my inexplicable new lust for chocolate. Even shit chocolate. I was also beating myself up about not writing updates every week, but you see, the reason I’d stopped doing that was because

I NEEDED A FUCKING BREAK

And I’m not terribly good to myself when I need to do nothing for a while. Getting better though, remind me to bring up Cancun before I finish.

All of the above is rubbish. You’re supposed to hook the reader’s attention when you start these. The possible candidates are:

  • I have a gaping wound on my chest
  • My father is dying
  • I’m beginning a doctoral program in the next two weeks because I’m a fucking idiot

Also, the hook definitely isn’t a thesis, and the thesis CANNOT be a bullet list, but fuck it, this isn’t an essay, and I’m not writing for a grade (yet).

BIG GAPING CHEST WOUND
Maybe six months after my surgery I noticed a small lump on my chest. I figured it’d been there forever but was buried under too much fat to notice. I decided to keep an eye on it and take note if it grew or otherwise changed in any way. Nothing for two and a half years. Last Thursday it started to hurt.

Friday it hurt so bad I couldn’t sit upright in a chair without pain. I went to urgent care that evening but they turned me away because they didn’t have enough time left in the day to deal with it. The ER was gonna be at least 2-3 hours of waiting, so I went back to urgent care on Saturday morning. Overnight, the lump had grown (it was literally the size of two large grapes…or maybe half a plum?) and become more painful. It was now big and angry and red, like the dying sun of Krypton.

So I went to urgent care and waited for four hours because guess what? Covid hasn’t fucking ended. But as long as we all pretend it has, we should be cool, right? Anyway, four hours of waiting, they take me back, the doc looks at it and says, “Yeah, you have an abscess. Let’s drain it!” Obviously I agreed. She told me the worst part was going to be the local anesthetic. “You’ll just feel a pinch and some burning.”

Yeah, so what she meant by “some burning” is “I’m going to burrow into your chest with an ice pick now, take a deep breath.” Jesus God, that was some top ten pain right there. Zero stars, do not recommend. Then she started draining it and there was so much pus in there that MY ABSCESS EJACULATED.

I so, so want that last sentence to be hyperbole. Anyway, I have to go back every two days to get the dressing changed. I went this morning, and the nurse looked at me and asked, “Is that your dressing?”

“No, no, it’s way worse than that,” I said.

“Who did this to you?”

“A doctor.”

And then she laughed and laughed. I know how to make friends with nurses. She pulled the gauze out of the wound and repacked it. Apparently it’s 1.5 centimeters deep (#gah). The doc who drained it the other day told me she drained one the size of a fucking lemon (#SatansLemonade).

MY FATHER IS DYING
Technically my father has been dying for over a year now, but as I write this, he’s on hospice care. I have a complicated relationship with my father, and even though talking to him makes me crazy, I love him (which might just be proof God exists, but let’s not entertain that tangent). He’s currently a lot more lucid than he has been in recent weeks, but his heart – which has run a thousand consecutive marathons by the way – is worn out, and he doesn’t have long. It’s fucking terrible, but it’s also time.

I was talking to a former student the other day and I said something along the lines of, “Dying is a fucking nightmare. Being dead is rest and release. For everyone.” That might sound horrifically pragmatic to some people, but I’ll bet a thousand bucks those people haven’t been through this as many times as I have. I’m tired of losing my people. I’m tired of the years having body counts. I’ll grieve the loss of my father when he’s gone, but it will be nice not to worry about him, and if that sounds selfish, fuck it.

This has been the dark cloud hovering over the entire year to date. There’s so much shit I haven’t taken care of because the stress and the worry have been enough for me to ignore things. When I was in urgent care the other day I opened my Kaiser app and got the following message:

They’ve been trying to get me to do some of that since February. Also, brief tangent, I have no idea what they want an alcohol screening for, and I need diabetes education like I need a third arm, but the rest of that got taken care of this morning while I was having my dressing changed. Anyway, the point is, there’s a lot I haven’t been taking care of this year, including myself. I haven’t let myself go to shit, but I also haven’t made taking care of myself as high a priority as I should’ve and there have been some consequences. All things considered though, I’m still doing pretty great. I’ll write about this more another time, this is already too fucking long.

DOCTORAL PROGRAM
I still don’t know what the fuck I’m thinking. I mean, I know I want this degree (EdD in Educational Leadership, focusing on the community college), but good lord. How the fuck am I meant to be grading research papers when I have to write one of my own? Also, right now, if you asked me to explain what my reasons are for pursuing this degree I’d tell you to mind your own fucking business BECAUSE I HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO TELL YOU. What am I gonna do with this degree? I’ll get back to you. For now, the fact that I want it is enough. This shouldn’t be even remotely surprising coming from someone who got a masters in poetry. Shut up.

ALL THE OTHER ANXIETY
Thank god I’m on medication. It’s been a year now and getting the right combination of meds and the right dosages was like fine tuning an old radio, but now that I’m dialed in, IT’S SO GREAT. If all this was happening a year ago I honestly think I’d be out of my mind (there’s no way I’d have applied for this doctoral program).

Annette and I took the dogs in to the vet for their annual checkup last Saturday. We knew we were going to be scheduling surgery for Sydney (she’s got a couple growths that need to be removed…the doc isn’t too worried about them, but they need to go). We didn’t know we were going to be scheduling surgery for Cooper even sooner. Turns out the poor little guy has a tumor in his belly, probably near the spleen. The doc is very concerned about this, and after a lot of conversation we all agreed that if the doc gets in there and it’s a mess, the kindest thing to do is not let Cooper wake up.

And the thought of that fucking kills me. I really don’t want to lose my boy on top of everything else. That’s happening this Friday. Here’s a pic of them from last night right before bed:

And because I don’t wanna close this post on a downer:

CANCUN
First off, NEVER fly Viva Aerobus. They’re the Spirit Airlines of Mexico. Getting to Cancun was the single worst day of travel ever. All the classic nightmares you’d have with international travel (missed flight, lost luggage, ride from the airport to the resort not coming through…) slapped between two stale pieces of bread to make the perfect shit sandwich. 23 (!) fucking hours to get from home to the resort.

BUT once we got there, holy shit. It turns out drinking margaritas in a pool doesn’t suck. The resort was amazing and I’d love to tell you all about it, but I never even got to the beach. I did NOTHING. For four days. I slept, I ate, and I drank margaritas in the pool. I’ve never gone on vacation and done NOTHING before. It was glorious. It was everything I never imagined it wouldn’t be. Next time we’re going for a full week. Next time. In three years. When I’m done with this degree. Hopefully.

Fuck.

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Weekly Check In – 12/29/2021 http://timhat.ch/weekly-check-in-12-29-2021/ Thu, 30 Dec 2021 23:07:46 +0000 http://timhat.ch/?p=3011 Two and a half years out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: ??? Some changes need to happen. I’m not counting the weeks out from surgery any more because fuck math, and because even if this was a baby – as opposed to my life – we’d have stopped counting the...

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Two and a half years out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:

  • ???

Some changes need to happen. I’m not counting the weeks out from surgery any more because fuck math, and because even if this was a baby – as opposed to my life – we’d have stopped counting the weeks a long time ago. Also, I haven’t written one of these in a month, and I really need to get back into the habit of writing them, but at the moment, I’m just taking some time to recover from a pretty rough year, and a terrible fall semester.

Some quick perspective: The other night, around 2am, I was in my office playing video games while my dogs snored on the floor next to me, while the rain pounded down on the roof like it had an agenda, while the heater kept me warm, while the excess of (wildly) high-calorie holiday food kept me full, while the best person I know, who loves me fiercely, slept in our bed, and it occurred to me that, planet-wide, there just aren’t very many people as lucky as me. So when I say things like “rough” and “terrible” just…you know, grain of salt.

I’d like my years to stop having body counts.

We lost my father in law on Christmas morning. Much like my father, he was a complicated guy, who could be frustrating, but without question, he loved all of us, and more than anything, he wanted to take care of his entire family. When I married Annette, I became his son, and there was never a day where I doubted his love for me or that I was his family. I haven’t been processing this much because I’m mostly concerned with Annette, who has legit had one of the shittiest weeks of her life, but his passing is starting to sink in, and even though he was pretty absent these last several years, it’s starting to hurt. This is on the heals of losing Julie earlier this fall, my Uncle Rick a little over a month ago, and in the middle of the anniversaries of all the people we lost to Covid last year. I’ve accepted the fact that, as I age, I’ll be losing people regularly, but I’d sure appreciate a drop in numbers.

For those of us who teach English at the community college level, there’s a particular type of class we have to teach. It’s due to a recent change in the law. I’ve been teaching it for a few years now, and without going into great detail, this particular class requires more of me than I’m cut out to give. Coming to that decision has been painful because it feels like a failure. It’s not a failure any more than it would be a failure if a particular class required me to juggle. It’s not a failure any more than it would be if a particular class required me to be a linguist. Thing is though, no one is requiring me to be a linguist, but there does seem to be a sudden need for jugglers. Where I’m at right now, I’m lucky enough to have a lot of work, and (for the moment at least) I can afford to be a little pickier about the classes I take. So, fuck juggling. I can’t do it, and I don’t particularly want to. I’m not a circus nerd. Still feels a little like failure though.

You may have noticed the nonspecific number up at the top. I haven’t weighed in a month. I haven’t been eating too terribly, but I haven’t been eating well. There’s a lot of fucked up holiday food just sitting around (and by the way? fuck off with your store-bought gourmet popcorn, that shit doesn’t say “love,” it says, “die a slow, lingering death,” and that’s a little off the mark for fucking Christmas), and sometime in the last four months, I seem to have evolved a small addiction to chocolate. This has NEVER been a thing in 52 years, but now even cheap shit like Hershey’s is calling to me like a fucking harpy, and DAMN that girl can sing.

I’m seriously dreading what the scale says when I get on it next week. But that’s next week. This week, I’m just doing my best, and I’m unpacking all the shit from the last four months.

Three things I’m grateful for:

  • Self awareness.
  • Having enough sense to allow myself to shut down.
  • My people.

I. Am. Fucking. Tired. And I’m ready for 2022, even though there’s zero objective evidence that it’ll be anything other than the third annual 2020. The beautiful thing about hope though, is that it requires zero evidence. Here’s hoping for a better year ahead.

No weight loss graphic this week, but here’s a picture of me and two of my favorite people taken about 28 hours after I got my grades turned in. I was exhausted, but that’s a genuine smile of relief:

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Weekly Check In – 12/1/2021 http://timhat.ch/weekly-check-in-12-1-2021/ Tue, 07 Dec 2021 02:45:31 +0000 http://timhat.ch/?p=3004 One hundred and twenty four weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: Weight: 242 Up a pound. I’ve been getting by on a whole lot of “fuck it” lately. It’s not ideal, but I’m getting by, so fuck it. I’m a lot better than I was the last time I...

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One hundred and twenty four weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:

  • Weight: 242

Up a pound. I’ve been getting by on a whole lot of “fuck it” lately. It’s not ideal, but I’m getting by, so fuck it. I’m a lot better than I was the last time I wrote one of these. I’m not eating like a dickhead. I really wasn’t then either, but that doesn’t mean I’ll pass up the opportunity to beat up on myself when I eat a handful of chocolate chips I know are poisonously terrible for me.

I’m going to keep this one sparse. I don’t have a whole lot to say today, and I’m mostly putting it up to serve as a reminder for where I was at here and now.

Three things I’m grateful for:

  • The end of the semester is looming, and the idea of that is almost sexually arousing.
  • After I turn in my grades I’ll have five weeks of no work and this has me so excited I could shit.
  • Two weeks into it, I’ll go into a mild depression due to the lack of structure and too much free time, AND I DON’T FUCKING CARE.

Honestly, I’m pretty good this week, but this semester has beat me down pretty thoroughly, and also it’s important to keep in mind that the pandemic isn’t over yet. We’re all pretending it is, but that’s a huge fucking lie we’re telling ourselves to psych ourselves up into going to the goddamn mall and buying new phones or whatever the fuck. That pretending is kind of exhausting too.

Here, have a graphic (these are going to be a little taller from here on out, thanks to the new phone I had to buy at the goddamn mall):

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Weekly Check In – 11/17/2021 http://timhat.ch/weekly-check-in-11-17-2021/ Fri, 19 Nov 2021 17:34:54 +0000 http://timhat.ch/?p=2953 One hundred and twenty two weeks out from surgery, and this week I don’t particularly care what my weight is. This might get a little long, we’ll see. I’m writing this on Thursday the 11th Friday the 12th Saturday you know what, it took several fucking days to write this. It hasn’t been a great...

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One hundred and twenty two weeks out from surgery, and this week I don’t particularly care what my weight is. This might get a little long, we’ll see. I’m writing this on Thursday the 11th Friday the 12th Saturday you know what, it took several fucking days to write this. It hasn’t been a great month.

My little brother would’ve been 43 on October 18th (if I’m doing the math right), and even though he’s been gone for almost five years, that hit me harder than it usually does. 43 was a particularly great year for me (it’s the year I became a poet, and the year I started taking the earliest steps down the path I’m currently on), so maybe that’s why it hit me harder. There’s been a lot of useless speculation about where he might be if he was still here: Would he still be struggling with sobriety? Would he have figured out a path that worked for him? That kind of thing. So that’s one thing.

We’re also coming up on the year anniversary of the loss of a lot of people. Right about now is when Covid got really fucking ugly last year, and between Annette and I, we lost six people. And that sucks but it was made even worse by the fact that it was 100% unnecessary. Sometimes life throws a curve ball, and there’s just not much you can do about it, but we had a president who didn’t give a fuck about the loss of life and his dysfunctional band of sycophantic traitors who turned something as basic as trying to avoid getting sick into a fucking political stance, and then there was his legion of “free thinking” voters who took that baton and ran with it, and now six of the people my wife and I loved are dead. But at least no one’s liberty was trampled on. Trump and his army of monsters are personally responsible for the loss of my people, and if you disagree with me, keep it to yourself, and if you voted for him, keep it to yourself and also fuck you (and for the record, if you’re someone I know and love, and you voted for Trump, I still love and respect you, but seriously, fuck you for that one thing, you made a terrible fucking choice there).

Six people.

My former professor and friend, Julie Paegle, died a month or so ago and there’s been some delayed grief over that.

I’m worried about my father’s health. Out of respect for the privacy of my parents, I won’t go into any greater detail than that, but I’m worried about him and I want him to hang out a while longer.

December 7th is the anniversary of the day my brother hung himself, and the 11th is the anniversary of the day he was taken off life support. Every year, just as I’m turning in grades for the fall semester, I go into a depression. And without the structure of having to be at work, the depression turns into days on end of just going through the motions and not paying bills. I first realized this in February 2018, when I was paying bills due to receiving shut off and cancellation notices, and I remembered doing the exact same thing the year before.

But here’s a new twist: This year I’m on medication. Specifically Wellbutrin and Celexa. And after taking them for a few months, I became convinced that I’ve been living with low-grade depression and anxiety my whole life (except when the depression was overwhelming, but that was a relatively short phase). So my theory is: If I was living with mild depression and anxiety all the time, then whenever things transitioned from “normal” into “depression” it probably wasn’t very noticeable. As in, it took me failing to pay our utility bills for two months in a row, two years in a row, to realize I was experiencing depression on the anniversary of my brother’s death.

But now I’m on drugs – the boring ones mentioned above – and I think what’s happening is that the transition from “normal” into “depression” is way more noticeable because most of the time my low-grade anxiety and depression are being controlled. In other words, when I’m mindful enough to be paying attention to myself, I’m more sensitive and aware of my mental health than I was before. It’s very similar to how I’m more sensitive to changes in my physical body now that I’ve lost 200+ pounds. Eating a forkful of rice is a pleasant thing, but eating two forkfuls of rice is the end of the fucking world because that shit just never stops expanding in my gut, and I spend the next two hours begging for an exorcism.

Topic of conversation for my next therapy session: Does being on medication mean it hits you harder when depression pays a visit?

Three things I’m grateful for:

  • My book. Wild Embrace, came out a week and a half ago, and I’m beyond excited about it.
  • Bamboo Dart Press. Mark and Dennis, my publishers, are exceptionally wonderful people, and working with them has been an impossibly wonderful experience.
  • All of my friends and colleagues who helped me with this book over the years. Nothing gets made alone, and the community responsible for this book seeing the light of day is too huge to list here (but I do thank them in the book…I’m not a complete dick). I love every last one of you.

I know that list almost seems like an afterthought, but that’s how this shit works. I’m beyond happy about the book and for that matter, I’m still over the moon about my niece’s wedding on Halloween, but when the bad shit piles up, it gets a little difficult to see the good. I’m working my way out of it though. That’s partially why I write these things. I have no graphic for you this week, so instead, why not check out my book trailer? #huzzah!

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Weekly Check In – 11/3/2021 http://timhat.ch/weekly-check-in-11-3-2021/ Thu, 04 Nov 2021 05:06:47 +0000 https://timhat.ch/?p=2942 One hundred and twenty weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: Weight: 241 Down 0.2 pounds. Has it really been two weeks since I last posted? Yes. Again? Yes. Why? Because shut up. That was mature. There’s a lot going on, as always. My niece just got married on Halloween....

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One hundred and twenty weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:

  • Weight: 241

Down 0.2 pounds. Has it really been two weeks since I last posted? Yes. Again? Yes. Why? Because shut up.

That was mature. There’s a lot going on, as always. My niece just got married on Halloween. It was a beautiful wedding with a lot of family and friends, and I was honored to officiate. Seeing her grow from a toddler into the young woman she’s become has been one of the great joys of my life. This is another one:

Isn’t she great?

There’s a lot of work, as always, and I spent several hours today emailing students and encouraging them to drop rather than fail. It’s the part of the semester I hate most, but there comes a point where passing is a mathematical impossibility, and I’d rather their transcripts reflect a W than an F. It’s super depressing, but it’s part of the job, and it’ll pass by the time I go to sleep tomorrow night.

I’m really worried for my dad’s health (and my mom’s sanity, as it falls entirely on her to take care of him). Just putting that here to acknowledge it, and to landmark it.

WordPress is telling me that 17.1% of this post is in passive voice. WordPress was ignored by the person doing the actual fucking work.

I still have a book coming out, and I’m still thrilled about it, and I really, really, really, really need to start ramping up the marketing part.

Three things I’m grateful for:

  • My family. Even the ones who make me crazy. They don’t get to define me, but they do get to claim me.
  • My students, who are largely badass, largely kindhearted, largely overwhelmed, and entirely awesome.
  • My work, which has frustrated me today, so deeply I want to scream, but that’s only because it matters so much to me, and I honestly never thought I’d find work I care about.

I’m good this week. I woke up Monday, dehydrated and exhausted. It took a couple days to recover from the wedding (there was a fair amount of prep and a LOT of organizing), but two nights in a row of good sleep and a few days of eating healthy (after a weekend of not doing so) has me feeling pretty human again. I think my sciatica is finally gone, so it’s time to attempt the gym soon.

Here, have a graphic:

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Weekly Check In – 10/20/2021 http://timhat.ch/weekly-check-in-10-20-2021/ Fri, 22 Oct 2021 21:24:58 +0000 http://timhat.ch/?p=2936 One hundred and eighteen weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: Weight: 242 Up a pound, and the back and forth continues, but I’m honestly having a hard time giving a shit. Which shouldn’t be mistaken for depression or indifference, I’m just super busy and happy to be maintaining, even...

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One hundred and eighteen weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:

  • Weight: 242

Up a pound, and the back and forth continues, but I’m honestly having a hard time giving a shit. Which shouldn’t be mistaken for depression or indifference, I’m just super busy and happy to be maintaining, even if it means I’m making zero progress toward a goal I still have. What’s going on with me?

I’m grading midterm essays, which is going slower than I’d like, but I’m refusing to grade more than 10-15 a day due to the whole sciatica thing I mentioned last time I wrote one of these. All of the grading is taking place on my laptop in bed because sitting in a chair like an adult hurts like fuck after about three minutes. And then there are days like today where I just couldn’t be bothered. Honestly a day off is a good thing here and there, and it’s easy to forget that when you’re a teacher (or in any profession where you’re not going in to your place of work on a regular schedule).

The sciatica thing is definitely improving, but it’s a drag. I tried going to the gym yesterday for the first time in two weeks and didn’t last three minutes on the bike. I took the dog for a walk later that morning just to get some kind of exercise, because I’ve definitely noticed it’s better for my overall frame of mind. I have another appointment with my chiropractor on Tuesday and I’m hoping that will help the pain to fuck off for a while.

Teaching is about five different things going on at the same time. Grading is obvious, but prepping for the on-campus class is another thing (and I love it, but it does eat up a bit of time). Then there’s letters of recommendation. There’s more to say about those than I feel like going into here and now, but I get those done when I can. Then there’s all the free counseling services I provide to my students, even though I have zero fucking training.

I think before the semester started, pretty much everyone was at their wit’s end. Like right at capacity for all the crap life sometimes slings your way. Then the semester started, and it’s really hard to be a college student, especially if you’re 18-25, especially if you’re struggling financially (which is nearly 100% of my students at all four schools), especially if you’re trying to juggle whatever else (dating / parenting / family obligations / work / blah blah blah). And everything was fine at first.

And then jobs started demanding more of my students because of the “labor shortage” (we all recognize this term as utter bullshit right?) and parents started demanding more of my students because grandpa was sick, and girlfriends and boyfriends started dumping people, and children got sick, and here I am, again, with zero fucking training, spending time with students who are smack in the middle of a major emotional crisis. Six of them at last count. Have I mentioned I have zero training to deal with this? So I do exactly what I did when I was in my 20s, spending nearly every day at the Black Watch Pub: I listen, and I say, “that sucks” a lot. And I don’t drink obviously (not until I’m tenured anyway, HAHAHAHAHAHA). Anyway.

And I’m not alone in this. I’ve spoken with three other college teachers who’ve all reported similar circumstances. Life is hard for those of us who aren’t Bill-Gates rich right now, and finding the correct ratio of empathy and holding students accountable for getting their work done is a

gigantic

fucking

headache.

And I still love it and it’s still the best job I’ve ever had, but it’s a LOT right now. Thank God I turned down that sixth class.

And then, earlier today this happened:

This is just an advanced copy, it’s not for sale yet, but I’m impossibly happy to have held my first book of poetry in my hands! Mark and Dennis, my publishers, have done an incredible job of putting this book together. Their attention to detail in every step of designing the book has been inspiring to watch. They’re two of the most supportive and creative people I’ve encountered (anywhere, ever) and I happily add working with them on this project to the incredibly long list of reasons why I’m the luckiest person alive. And if that sounds like hyperbole, well, I’m a fucking poet, get off my fucking back. There’s a book trailer coming out next week that I can’t wait to share with people.

Three things I’m grateful for (in no particular order):

  • My book.
  • My publishers.
  • My life.

I’m good this week. Full stop.

Here, have a graphic:

The post Weekly Check In – 10/20/2021 first appeared on Tim Hatch: Educator. Author. Tired..]]>
Weekly Check In – 10/6/2021 http://timhat.ch/weekly-check-in-10-6-2021/ Mon, 11 Oct 2021 19:33:20 +0000 http://timhat.ch/?p=2926 One hundred and sixteen weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: Weight: 241 Down 1.4, which is great except that I haven’t written one of these in almost three weeks (it’s currently Monday, 10/11) and I gained 1.1 pounds the week before. I meant to write a post, but then...

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One hundred and sixteen weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:

  • Weight: 241

Down 1.4, which is great except that I haven’t written one of these in almost three weeks (it’s currently Monday, 10/11) and I gained 1.1 pounds the week before. I meant to write a post, but then there was a grading bonanza and it didn’t happen. But here, have an ancient graphic showing my intention to publish:

Yeah, that was fun, wasn’t it?

I’m not feeling so great this week. I’m beating myself up a little bit for not being more on top of things when it comes to posting these, and I’m also beating myself up a little bit for getting pissy with my dad the other night after telling myself, and my brother and his family, that I didn’t want to and wasn’t going to. But then he opens his mouth…

I’m also feeling like shit because sciatica has come back into my life like an ex-girlfriend whose restraining order expired three weeks ago and there’s nothing you can do about it; she’s here on the porch and she’s got the crazy eyes. Except instead of that, it’s just this immense pain in my lower back that runs down the right side of my ass to the top of my right leg. It’s a literal pain in my ass. And I think I got it from not following my own rule of only grading 10 essays a day. I graded 70 essays in four days, like an asshole, and now my back / ass / leg is a mess.

By the way, this would be the second sitting-related injury I’ve suffered in my life. The first was about three years ago and I got it from sitting at a Starbucks for nine hours (doing what?) grading fucking essays. That time I tore my trapezius and it sucked, but I’d take it in a heartbeat over the sciatica.

Firefox seems to think “trapezius” isn’t a word. Get with the program Firefox!

Does it seem like I’m allowing myself to wander a bit more than normal. That’s because I am. You see, when I finish up here, I have to…shit, what was it again? Oh right, grade fucking essays.

So I’m in pain and I have been for like four days…maybe five…and I haven’t been to the gym in that entire time, so that’s another reason I’m feeling like shit. I haven’t been active in almost a week.

“Oh, but Tim, that’s just you looking for an excuse not to go to the gym, isn’t it?”

WRONG Other Tim, you judgemental prick! I can move around without any pain. I can lift things without any pain. But ask me to sit upright in a chair (like on a recumbent bike or a weight machine) and the pain is excruciating.

“So go for a walk then.”

Ye– Fuck you, dick!

Please allow me to now remind you of something:

So what are the big takeaways here?

  • Never grade more than ten essays a day. Students can wait. Nothing is an emergency.
  • I should be walking right now instead of typing.
  • Not being active for an extended (4-5 days) period of time is terrible for my mental health.
  • I’d really like to be better about writing these, so maybe I should just have more fun with them? Not everything has to be about my health or career.
  • I was unnecessarily dickish to my dad the other night and I feel bad about it, yet I remain confident that I won’t apologize for it.
  • “Dickish” also isn’t recognized by Firefox but that’s correct, unless common, everyday usage matters, in which case Firefox is a pedant.
  • I have a lot on my plate at the moment. I haven’t said that anywhere above, but it’s true and it’s pretty telling that I haven’t given myself the credit for that or cut myself a little slack.

Three things I’m grateful for:

  • The freedom
  • to blow off
  • gratitude lists

I’m…good (?) this week. I’m in pain, but it’s only Monday and I’m seeing my chiropractor tomorrow. I haven’t seen her since before I had the surgery, so I’m probably due for an adjustment. Also, I used to see her every 3-4 months, and while I’m sure it’s been way too long, the fact that I’ve gone this far compared to how I used to be (when I was twice my current size) is definitely a step up. Also, I teach in a little over three hours, and being in the classroom with students for five hours will definitely take me out of my head, and that, as the image above should imply, is always a good thing.

Here, have a graphic:

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Weekly Check In – 9/22/2021 http://timhat.ch/weekly-check-in-9-22-2021/ Wed, 22 Sep 2021 18:23:42 +0000 http://timhat.ch/?p=2915 One hundred and fourteen weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: Weight: 241 Down 0.4, which again, is small, but movement in the right direction, which I’m grateful for. I’ve been tracking my calories more days than not, and I’ve been doing my best to get as much water as...

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One hundred and fourteen weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:

  • Weight: 241

Down 0.4, which again, is small, but movement in the right direction, which I’m grateful for. I’ve been tracking my calories more days than not, and I’ve been doing my best to get as much water as possible. That plus hitting the gym four days a week seems to be working. I don’t get home until 10pm on Monday and Wednesday and getting up early for the gym has proven to be incredibly difficult the following mornings. Yesterday I just said, “fuck it.” Last Thursday too. But whatever, four days a week isn’t nothing.

I’ve been grading essays for the school I’m teaching on campus at this fall. Distance learning can go fuck itself. It’s been a year and a half since I’ve taught on campus, anywhere, and the results are night and day. There were several classes in the last year and a half where I might only give out one or two A’s in the entire class for the first essay. I gave out 60% A’s on my first class, and I’m currently at about 45% A’s in my second class, with two left to grade. As opposed to say, 12% A’s in my online classes over the last eighteen months. Online learning is a necessary thing, but it will take a miracle to convince me it’s a good idea for more than a small handful of people.

Hey, here’s something I’m incredibly excited about:

That’s the cover to my first collection of poetry, which will be released on November 10th! When I’m finished grading the two essays mentioned above, I’ll be going over the final edits and sending it off to the publisher, and just typing that makes me impossibly happy. I do wish Julie was still around to see it, but I’m still thrilled.

Three things I’m grateful for:

  • My job. I genuinely love what I do. I have the best job.
  • My students. I teach from 3:45pm to 9:20pm and I have more energy walking out of the classroom than I do going in. And it’s because of the students and how awesome they are and how hard they work.
  • My book. Duh.

I’m good this week. Actually, no. I’m happy this week. There’s still a whole lot of horrifying in the world, but this week I’m doing everything I can to focus on myself and the things I can do to make the world a little less horrifying.

Here, have a graphic:

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