More on God's Files on Me
In August 1990, I passed my orals unanimously (but not with distinction because I am a B plus kind of guy), then straightaway landed a job teaching three composition courses and two literature survey courses at a compass point university called Southeastern Louisiana. At the time, I was living in New Orleans; my other was an adorable brown-haired woman, about yay high, who coped with me for six years all the while hoping and praying for babies.
The commute to this campus was about an hour and a half from my front door—45 minutes to cross the Causeway to the north shore, another 45 minutes to reach Hammond Louisiana.
Christmas 1992, we backpacked through the Honduran Biosphere along the Nicaraguan border. I came back with the wander bug. She did not.
The following year, I resigned from SLU and left the US to work overseas. I started out an ex-pat, ended up an exile.
She stopped taking my calls and married a feller who fathered her four sons—God bless her.
I am now commuting from Abu Dhabi to Sharjah until Mina and I make the move. It takes 45 minutes to travel Sheikh Maktoum bin Rashid Road to Exit 311 (Emirates Road), then another 45 minutes on Emirates Road to the U of S campus. An hour and a half from my front door.
I am married now to an adorable brown-haired woman, about yay high, who has coped with me for four years all the while hoping and praying for babies.
Here's the script.
Spf:TypeStorage
This is the header for a handy pieces of code to help develop consistency—like authorizing user name and password access on a website;. It is server side scripting. The SPF stands for "Sisyphus Performance Framework".
If I could hack into God’s Apache server, access His mysql files, I would override the default behavior of my cyclical life by adding these two attributes to the field.
{SpfStringDataType
echo
public string = Spfspontaneous_impulsive_decision_making:null;
public string = Spfthink_shit_through:true}
The commute to this campus was about an hour and a half from my front door—45 minutes to cross the Causeway to the north shore, another 45 minutes to reach Hammond Louisiana.
Christmas 1992, we backpacked through the Honduran Biosphere along the Nicaraguan border. I came back with the wander bug. She did not.
The following year, I resigned from SLU and left the US to work overseas. I started out an ex-pat, ended up an exile.
She stopped taking my calls and married a feller who fathered her four sons—God bless her.
I am now commuting from Abu Dhabi to Sharjah until Mina and I make the move. It takes 45 minutes to travel Sheikh Maktoum bin Rashid Road to Exit 311 (Emirates Road), then another 45 minutes on Emirates Road to the U of S campus. An hour and a half from my front door.
I am married now to an adorable brown-haired woman, about yay high, who has coped with me for four years all the while hoping and praying for babies.
Here's the script.
Spf:TypeStorage
This is the header for a handy pieces of code to help develop consistency—like authorizing user name and password access on a website;. It is server side scripting. The SPF stands for "Sisyphus Performance Framework".
If I could hack into God’s Apache server, access His mysql files, I would override the default behavior of my cyclical life by adding these two attributes to the field.
{SpfStringDataType
echo
public string = Spfspontaneous_impulsive_decision_making:null;
public string = Spfthink_shit_through:true}
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5 Comments:
The cycle's not QUITE complete, is it? It seems that, as long as you stay satisfied in exile, you'll avoid having that wander bug wend its way around to a picket-fenced house in a suburb and a late model vehicle in the drive bug.
Still, that seems to need too much vigilance. Easier to hack the heavenly files.
My commute is longer than yours (as if it's a contest).
Booda: It would be easier for me to hack into God's data base and rewrite destiny than for me to stay satisfied, anywhere.
Liz: I am (sincerely)consoled. The grass is always greener. But in my case, the grass is actually brown. And instead of calling it grass, we call it sand.
That's the first time I've read "yay high" - always wondered how to spell that.
We appear to landed in a white-tiled terrace overlooking a semi-tropical valley, rather than a picket fence. But it's a nice enough place, you can see a slice of the rocky sea from the side, and best of all, parents want art education for their kids - and are willing to pay for it.
You and your wife are welcome to stay with us whenever you make it over ~
Merci Mm. Liz,
white tiled terrace? semi-tropical valley? It's a long way from the neon lights and choking fumes of Seoul, n'ect ce pas?
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