I participated in what is cleverly referred to as Novembeard. That is to say, I did not shave for the month of November. I’m pretty hairy and haven’t had trouble growing a beard since I was about 15. So an entire of month of no shaving or trimming got pretty hairy. See what I did there?
I suffered heavily from what I like to refer to as cheek creep. It’s when the stray beard hair starts moving up your cheek a little bit. Not so much that you end up looking like a werewolf, but enough that you can sometimes catch a glimpse of them when you look down your nose at someone. Which I obviously do quite often. I was forced to amend the rules of Novembeard and did a clean-up of the non-beard areas. When it finally came time to shave, I couldn’t have been harrier. I mean happier. See, again? I am witty. It was quite a process with several different levels being used on my beard trimmer, but finally I was clean shaven again. Of course, my sink looked as if I had just shaved a small squirrel in it, but I digress.
This is about lessons learned since being back.
Lesson one. Never, ever drink an entire liter of water right before you have to stand in front of a class and teach for an hour. You will start to dance. A lot.
Lesson two. Never, ever eat an entire can of Campbell’s Condensed Chicken Noodle Soup without adding the extra can of water. It is condensed. Which I’m pretty sure translates as full of enough sodium to send your body into shock. Plus, it doesn’t taste very good.
Lesson three. Always watch what you say in front of a class. They look like they’re not paying attention, but the second you say something that may be construed as sexual, they are paying attention. The twittering will alert you to your mishap.
Lesson four. Never, ever ask for an explanation of what you just said. You can’t unhear some things and you still have to give these people grades.
Lesson five. I am old. Seriously. The cul-de-sacs set me apart from the 30,000 undergrads here, which is really underscored when you see an attractive girl walking towards you only to realize that when she passes you by, she’s probably not even legally allowed to drink. See, even my eye sight is failing me.
Lesson six. When going for a run in the dark, don't assume that unidentified mass in front of you is a leaf waiting to be crunched by your foot. I love crunching leaves. It entertains me and allows for those giant monster fantasies we all had as children stomping through the sand box and crushing civilizations under our feet. No? No one else? Just me… Anyway, that “leaf” you think you’re going to crunch? It might be dog poop. And by might I mean will.
Welcome to Swedish-America. And lessons learned.
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