Don't know what to say about my days, now. I get up, get ready, walk to the train. Sometimes I get a seat, and then I read. Sometimes I don't get a seat, and then I despair and listen to my ipod. I'm starting to get aggressive about seat-getting, well, passive aggressive at least.
Then I work. And I like it, but it's work, and I doubt it's interesting to anyone not working there. I come home on the train, reading some more. I walk up the wee hill to our apartment, and discover I've missed Sam so much that I nearly follow him around, telling him how much I like him. (You'd think this would be charming, but my suspicion is that it gets old.)
We eat dinner (We've just developed a clever system that is FINALLY helping us not go out to eat every 35 seconds. The system goes like this: Sam's in charge two days out of the week. It's brilliant.)
I conduct my elaborate routine so I don't have to do much the next morning to get myself out the door: get breakfast ready, pack lunch, get out vitamins and clothes and pack my bag.
And then I sleep. Unless I have insomnia, in which case I read some more, and wake Sam up to ask him how one sleeps because I can't remember how.
And then I do it again. That's it, folks. That's the life. That, and a lot of quick emails to Sam, although I try not to write so many. Here's one, anyway, which I sent this morning:
subject line: am reading wolfy again.
a room of one's own. finally. don't know why it took me 27 years to read this. i think i thought i had. anyway, i hadn't, and it's freaking brilliant.
she even wrote something about meatsock*: "The tailless cat, though some are said to exist in the Isle of Man, is rarer than one thinks. It is a queer animal, quaint rather than beautiful. It is strange what a difference a tail makes ...."
anyway, was stifling giggles of joy all the way down here on the train.
thanks for getting it for me**.
brought a few pictures: our wee engagement photo in a silver frame; the one of you as a lad, typing; the exploded shed, and the frugal card*** you gave me. now i feel like i belong here, like i'm safe.
*meatsock: our kitty
**he brought a used copy back from new york when we were still pretending not to be in love.
***frugal card: sam got me a greeting card with a lady on the front, smirking. it reads: "frugal is such an ugly word." i like it. a lot.
Hello, friends. I've unprivatized, which I think will help me feel more like posting. I've been, as you've seen, relatively postless lately. Don't know what the deal is. I haven't really been commenting on ya'll's blogs either, but I'm working on that. Since it's been hovering around 6 degrees (!) lately in Boston, I've been eating my lunch at my desk and bopping around the Internet for an hour. It's pleasant, but I really can't wait until I can bring my lunch over to the Public Garden and watch the swan boats.
Yes, I am already dreaming of spring, longing for it with all my heart, remembering what it feels like to have a sunny, lovely day. I can just barely recall. I can recall just enough to miss it viscerally.
Anyway, pneumonia's mostly left me, although a cough lingers, and this afternoon, when I meant to just read for a moment, a nap took me its clutches and I slept for two hours. Whoops. I'm exhausted still, is what I'm saying.
But other than that, things are good. Sam sold a story for 400 bucks to The Threepenny Review, so that was a highlight of the week. And I'm still just completely smitten with this job. Head over heels for it. Loving it. I'm sure the honeymoon phase will end at some point, but for now, wow. I didn't know I could enjoy work so much. I even like the schedule, as it forces me to make routines and stick to them--something I always struggled with when teaching.
I've even begun to think that what happened to me last semester--all of that ugliness--could have been the best scenario, divine intervention. I would have never thought of trying for a job like this, but it feels like what I've always wanted to do.
And so I keep thinking about faith, how I wish I had more of it, and wondering if I had had more of it, if I would have freaked out less then. I mean, I knew sort of intellectually that God would take care of me, because He's good at it and always has, but I didn't really BELIEVE He could make it better, make me look back on all that horribleness and be grateful for it. How does He do that? And, more importantly, why can't I remember He will? Sigh. I continue to work on it. I long for a faith that I can climb into a like a sailboat.
the raging cold turned into pneumonia.
Sigh.
It was a nice two days working, anyway. It was terrifying to call in sick on day three.
Hopefully, one more day and home and I'll be ready to get back in there.
Day one of work was pretty wonderful. I mean, not anything too exciting yet, mostly filling out forms and such. But I was surprised by how much I loved sitting at my desk, writing emails to my editorial assistant, trying out my new lingo, etc.
When I came out of the building to go home, it was dark out, and I had wondered if that would bum me out, but I giggled a little, because the whole city was there in front of me, and it was incredibly beautiful,as Boston tends to be. The trees were lit up with little bright lights and all these young professionals were walking to the train and there was a beautiful window display of trendy home furnishings, and I felt like I was living the dream.
Okay, so then I fell when I was crossing the street. But even that was sort of cool because this kid (read--kid the age of my former students) stopped in front of me so that I wouldn't get hit by a car, and as humiliating as that was, what he did seemed so kind, and made me feel like we were in this thing together--this train taking, this working thing. And we'd all agreed to take care of each other.
Back to job. Overall, it just feels better there. As much as I loved teaching, I have a lot to say about why I suspect this corporate environment has advantages, why I think it might be smarter and certainly less petty, but I'll save that. For now, it just seems like a miracle that they want me to ask questions, even stupid ones, and they want me to be innovative and tell them candidly what I think. This seems unprecedented for my working life thus far.
Only troubles: I have a raging cold which I can't stay home and nurse, and I dreamed I was working all night, so it feels like I've had no time off. At one point during the night, I think I was just barely awake enough to hear myself emit this thin snore, and at that point in my dream, the job had morphed into a waitress/food prep sort of job, and my snores were very thin slices of bread, and someone was telling me I had to fold the slices up very thick so I could make the bread pudding.
And now I must be off. I hope Sam sings that song, "My baby takes the morning train ..." as he's been singing to me lately. I like that song.
I got the fancy, downtown publishing job.
Thank heavens. Literally.
Merry Christmas, all. Sam and I are in Tucson with the sunshine (!) and his sweet family. Last year I was suspicious of cacti with christmas lights on them. This year, I love them.
And this little girl loves you. I'm the cute, small, flirting one.
Merry day!
(sorry for small image. no idea why that's so. click on it?)
I'm sitting in an empty classroom. It was the last session of my evening class and my students' final exams are in a stack in front of me.
Also in front of me is a Christmas card from a sweet student. Inside she said I was a good teacher, a helpful teacher. She thanked me.
And maybe she does this for every teacher. Maybe she's just a nice kid. But it's making me weep. I have three days left of teaching and I'm weeping about it.
I want to leave the school with all my heart. It's the right thing to do. It's a toxic, insane department.
But I'll miss my students. I'll miss teaching. I'll miss.
