I made it through the darkness

I realized this week while making an appointment that next month is February. I had survived about five months of darkness, and I did not even realize it. During my descent into hell, I visited Hungary and saw some ghosts (I mean this figuratively) and a demon (I mean this literally). I did not speak to the demon. It took the form of a woman. It was my teacher at IH Budapest. I saw it in the Burger King near the school. It was a Sunday, as I remember, about seven o’clock in the evening, and I thought to myself, “Don’t these assholes ever go home?” The demon was with its spawn. I recognized the spawn. It was its male spawn. I had once seen this spawn naked with the demon’s female spawn, also naked, in a photo on the demon’s facebook page, which has no privacy settings whatsoever. There was nothing sexual going on in the photo, but looking at children who are at least five years old, together, naked, makes non-demons squirm. The demon understands facebook privacy and what is appropriate to take photographs of about as well as it understands what is appropriate in the classroom. I took three months of verbal abuse from the demon, which included mockery, being laughed, and its rattling frowny faces (this it did to everyone). It sabotaged my last practice lesson. My career was over. Thousands of dollars and years working towards being an EFL teacher, which included voice therapy to deal with my damaged vocal cords, pissed down the tube

Do you think that I confronted this slippery cunt? If you think I did, you don’t understand me at all. What I did was beeline it for the exit as fast as I could. The demon terrified me!

Was going back to Hungary a mistake? It was certainly mostly horrible, but I am not completely sure yet if it was a mistake. In Hungary I saw Sopron and Pécs. It was thrilling, and both these cities were so beautiful that they moved me to tears.

In Budapest on the Hungarian Memorial Day I saw people from all around Hungary converge on Széll Kálmán Square to pay their respects to the fallen heroes who were killed by Khrushchev’s tanks during the 1956 uprising. If you look carefully in the photo above, you will see someone holding up a sign that says “Szeged.” This is a city in Hungary. I saw swarms of people coming off chartered busses representing all the cities of Hungary. It was so beautiful to see this outpouring of national unity. In the United States on Memorial Day we wave around flags and watch assholes march around in military uniforms. This was not like that at all. This was a real memorial. At the point where I was moved to tears, I decided to go. I felt somehow out of place, that not being Hungarian made me unworthy of being there. I felt like some type of rubbernecker.