outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Overly-cautiously optimistic I like where I am right now. It almost feels juvenile to say that, or naive, as if here was a place, and as if there were any chance that I could stay here for any length of time. But maybe that is just my fatalism talking. Whatever will happen, I don't know, but what I can say about right now, this instant, is that I feel good about things, all the pain and sadness and loneliness notwithstanding. I know it's a mistake to think "I will be happy if only..." x, y, z happens; the marvelous thing to take note of is that despite all of those missing variables, I still recognize that I feel pretty good right now. (Why do I feel like I have to apologize for this?) I realized something the other day which puts all my journaling over the years into perspective: whether it be because of the head injury from when I was younger, or a normal consequence of aging, or just something that everyone goes through but no one talks about, I don't feel any kind of constancy of self. I have a moment to moment identity, and although I remember my memories from the past, I never feel any kind of certainty that the me who experienced those moments is the same me who exists today. No matter if it's something from my childhood or something from a year ago; I would be as surprised to find that I could still identify with my emotions at that moment as to find that I could not. Sometimes more so, in fact. Is everyone like that? It's like all the past Jessies were actors, and the only real Jessie is the one of today. Really, when I look back on my life, it's like watching a movie or reading a book instead of reliving memories, some of the time. A third-person adventure. Anyway, I didn't come here to get all existential on your ass; I just came to check in. Give my future self an anchor to look back on and see what this Jessie was thinking and feeling. Specifically: I'm thinking about G, and my dissertation, and my teaching, and my house. I love her. One of the things that sparked the realization from above was thinking about how I could have EVER agreed to this living apart thing, how I could have ever thought that it would be a good idea, or possible. Because it's not, and it's not. I grieve about it every day, and I am only surviving it by knowing that she'll be here soon, especially soon, because she just bought a ticket to be here later this week. My dissertation is coming along, slowly, and I've been pleased with the spirit of it. I'm not technically registered for any credits this semester, and I was thinking this morning that I don't know if I need to be. It is doubtful that I'll finish this semester, and if I'm not going to finish, why pay for the credit? I'll just pay for it next semester, since apparently you need to be registered in the semester you graduate. Which I guess makes sense, but after the length of time that I've been in grad school, it seems more like a money-making proposition for the university. My teaching has been ok so far, after one week. But I still thinking of it as "my teaching" instead of "my students' learning" which is an indication of my newbie status. I need to get to know the students, which is going to take time. And they need to get to know me too. I don't know if I'll get it under control by the end of the semester (because shit is way out of control right now, in terms of my organization), but we'll see. The house still feels like someone else's, at this point. Perhaps because I still keep finding stains and dirt from the previous owners (and subsequently not cleaning said stains and dirt). So I feel like I'm in a timeshare or something, not like I own this place. One of the things I like to do when I move into a place is clean every mark of the previous occupants out of it, but this place is toooo big for that. If I started now and thoroughly cleaned one room a week, I'd be done at the end of the semester. Meanwhile, the grass is growing out of control, the hedges are looking unkempt, and I left a poor little bird carcass sitting in the driveway too long and it filled with maggots. So gross. Also, did you know that cat litter could rot? I did NOT, and I was horrified to discover this fact as I cleaned out the litter box this afternoon. Really? Moldy cat poop? That is really disgusting. How do people who live in humid climates keep cats? I seriously considered trying to teach my cats how to use the toilet, just to avoid this ever, ever happening again. My cats are threatening to become as disgusting as dogs. I love dogs, don't get me wrong, but they definitely out-gross any cat. Meanwhile, I took a cue from the lovely and talented Anna (link may need fixing, I'm a bit rusty) and have started taking an art class. It was just one-on-one this week because I guess some of the others are just starting their semesters, and she got me started on watercolors. I have not one scrap of artistic talent, but it was fun! I enjoyed myself so much that I think I may continue. And I've inquired into a class at another art gallery, closer to work, where they're teaching people how to make star quilt-style pillows, and I could totes be down with being a pillow maker. Right? For Christmas! I am so looking forward to the holidays this year. G and I will be together again, and we have big plans to decorate our house to the nines. I'm so excited. Good things are all around. (Why when I say that am I expecting the other shoe to drop?) 12:05 p.m. - 2011-08-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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