Diary of the Wise Sage

Odin's beard!  Hundreds of books or so here, and you'd think at least one of them would say something about this ridiculous island.  I spent hours flipping through the most asinine reading material -- But nope!  Nothing.  Nada.  Zilch.  So all I've got, in the end, is the name.  Pfah.  Memento Eden.  'Memento', meaning remembrance, and 'Eden' in reference to original paradise.  Does that sound about right?  So, what -- it takes our memories and keeps us bound here to this 'Eden' with endless ocean in place of flaming seraphim and sword?  The name doesn't even make any bloody sense.  Sounds like a retirement home where the aged go off and die.

I suppose I managed to accomplish my secondary objective.  To the young lady who inquired as to whether or not I was a mage, the answer is a resounding no.  Which correlates precisely with the observation that every single one of my tomes is, in fact, a book of magic, because clearly, nothing in this place can ever make sense or else it would spontaneously implode.  The only positive that's come out of this so far are the half-dozen magic theory texts currently sitting in my bedroom waiting to be read.

In the meantime, I've signed myself up for a job.  What sort of appalling education system allows any random stranger off the street to be qualified to mold the minds of the children?  Worked out in my favor, though.  I should probably find out what Home Economics is before class starts tomorrow; hold on.

. . . Ah.  Here we are.  'A field of formal study including such topics as consumer education, institutional management, interior design, home furnishing, cleaning, handicrafts, sewing, clothing and textiles, cooking, nutrition, food preservation, hygiene, child development, and family relationships.'  . . . What?  . . . Nutrition?  We don't get a choice here!  Interior design, cleaning; child de -- I refuse to teach sex ed. 

This is ludicrous.  I never had to learn any of this in school.

. . .

Listen up, class!  We meet in the front of the library tomorrow; it's warm enough.  Bring a table saw if you have one.  We'll be working on the 'handicrafts' section of this subject from now until . . . I resign, I suppose.  Or I die.  Don't worry, kids; I'm expecting high blood pressure to kick in any time now.