Something's Missing From My Life

It's called the news. I realized how starved I have been for the news -- I mean the real news -- on Sunday morning when I awoke at my parents' DC-area home and promptly scampered out to the curb in my pajamas (sorry Dad, I know that's against the rules) to get the Post, then scampered back up the driveway scanning the headlines and thinking, "Oooooh, Washington Post," much like Homer Simpson thinks of doughnuts.

To make matters worse in the news-withdrawal department, about a month ago I cancelled my subscription to my local daily, the Virginian Pilot, after Dave noticed nearly a week's worth of newspapers piled inside my front door and asked, "Why do you get the paper if you don't even read it?" Good question, Dave. Simply for the sheer pleasure of recycling it I guess. Actually, I used to get the paper because I like the idea of being an informed citizen. Plus it gives me a lot to bitch about. Unfortunately, in a momentary lapse of sanity, I stopped getting the paper because I was working so much that I never had time to read it. That seems reasonable, right? If you're working too much to read the paper, just stop getting the paper. No dumbass, stop working so much!

Have I mentioned that I'm a teacher? A Social Studies teacher? I kinda need to be up on world events. And since I don't own a television it's probably a good idea to subscribe to a newspaper or two.

Now, to be fair (to me) the Virginian Pilot is not exactly reknowned for its coverage of global news. In fact, most of the articles in the Pilot are about various ships/troops coming/going, whether or not the local air base (the largest on the east coast) will remain open, or how to make really good ribs. They also frequently run the same story in multiple sections of the paper. But at least it's something. At least when one of my 15-year-old students says to me, "Hey, what do you think of this Dubai Ports deal thing?" I can respond with something other than, "Um, Dubai Ports? Yeah, we're gonna talk about that in class tomorrow," as I discreetly type "dubai ports" into the search engine at www.washingtonpost.com.

So starting tomorrow I'm not fucking around anymore. I'm re-subscribing to the Pilot and I'm going to read it every day (but not the Business or Sports sections. Puh-leaze.) Never again will the comings or goings of various ships catch me unawares. And on Sundays I'm really not fucking around: on Sundays I will read a real newspaper -- the Washington Post or the New York Times, or maybe both. I'm getting ready to be soooooo informed.