So, turns out when you’re traveling alone, you have A LOT of time on your hands. Now, with this time, you can either think about how weinly you are until it drives you damn near insane, or you can just download copious amounts of American television programs from the Internet and spend your time wondering why you didn’t think of that.

My case in point? FlashForward. Am I the only sucker who watches this show? I have no idea. Really, the television viewing habits of the average U.S. American is just one slice of First World life that I currently have no grasp on. In fact, if it wasn’t for all the excited foreigners telling me every single day how glad they are that Obama is now the President of the United States (Seriously, now I understand the Peace Prize debacle: The world loves this man more than his own country.), I probably would just assume Dick Cheney stopping plotting to shoot more people in the face and assumed the role by glamouring the American public with his sideways grin. (And yes, for some reason, this still seems possible. And yes-squared, I’ve also been watching a lot of True Blood lately.)

Anyway, back to what’s important — my television viewing habits and, in particular, this show FlashForward. For those of you who have friends and lives and don’t know the plot of this show, I’ll try to summarize here. The whole world blacked out for two minutes or so, during which time they all saw glimpses of their futures on April 10 (I think, or maybe it was March) at 10 p.m. (I think, or maybe it was 9.) But, really, the time or place isn’t that  important. What’s important is that everyone in the world for some reason yet to be determined saw a drop of their futre. Or at least that’s what they think. Some people saw happy events, others sad ones and still others saw nothing at all, which everyone assumes means they’ll be dead. Whoops. Whatever the case, though, you can imagine how this kind of information could change a person’s life.


Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m a sucker for this kind of mind-bending, cheesy gimmicky crap and pray one day that I, too, can cash in on this kind of idea. It’s kind of like Dexter. I mean, duh! How obvious! A likable serial killer! The novel series (and, of course, the television show and/or subsequent cash-cow of a film) practically writes itself!

God, sometimes I even wish I was Dan Brown, but, you know, with writing skills. I’m sure he’ll laugh at that when he stops skinny-dipping with Tom Hanks in a McScrooge-like vault of cold, hard cash and logs on to the Interweb to read this latest blog of mine, which I’m sure, like every other cultural icon, he has bookmarked. (Hi, Dan!)

But yeah. Unfortunately, I’m just a hobo-esque, uh, hobo walking the world with my proverbial bindle that’s filled with delicious salty beans instead of ridiculously obvious ideas. Which  means, in the near future, I will probably have to think about actually working again. (You know, if I haven’t rendered myself completely unemployable yet, which is a distinct possibility…)

However, as awful as “having a job” sounds (I still can’t really say it out loud), I think I’ve come up with a career for which I might actually be suited. No, not creepy Internet personality (unfortunately, although extremely suited, that job doesn’t pay), but something almost as creepy — public school teacher.

Did that Enrique Iglesias record I’m listening to right now to learn Spanish just skip?

Yeah, I realize this seems a bit out of izquierda field (thank you, Enrique), but with all the Spanish classes I’ve been taking and my hatred of office work and love of being in charge, I can’t think of a better day job than that of a teacher, and specifically, an English as a Second Language teacher.

Si, as if I was a stereotype of some television heroine on a wacky sci-fi television series, whenever I close my eyes, that is what I see myself doing in the future. Well, either that or becoming Matt Foley.

But I hope it’s the former. Not that I would mind living in a van down by the river (it sounds kind of peaceful, actually), but, you know, cheap polyester suits and 500 pounds just wouldn’t look good on me.

So what are my next steps? Not exactly sure. I’m looking at applying to some fellowships or taking advantage of “alternative certificate” programs, which it seems just about every major U.S. city has these days. But as to where I’ll go? That’s just a matter of finding a public school system crazy enough to hire me or dumb enough to trick.

I’m sure this blog post will help.

But in all honesty, I’m pretty sure I would kick ass at teaching English. Not only do I seem to know the language pretty well, but with intermediate Spanish-language skills and a couple of weeks spent living with a 5-year-old kid in Cuzco, who I’m proud to announce can now say, “This stuff is tight” (I censored it for her protection), I think I may have found my second calling. The first, of course, is to stumble upon an idea so cheesy, so gimmicky, so brilliant, that I will never have to say, “Are you hiring?” again.

So yeah, this is what television has done for me. It’s made me contemplate the future. It’s made me want to become Mr. Prezbo, but you know, without the failed cop background. (Oh indeed, as much as I love FlashForward and other cheesy sci-fi sh*t, The Wire will always be my No. 1. I love you, Omar.) Here’s to hoping my vision comes true.