Friday, December 30, 2005

And again with the "resolutions"...

I don't do these things. By writing (and therefore acknowledging the existence of) resolutions in general, I throw them out into the atmosphere to become big looming clouds of "Things I really should have taken care of". And these aren't nice clouds. Nothing like the Simpson's sky clouds. Which reminds me, last night I saw the episode where Bart and Lisa become (briefly) best friends. One of my all time favorites.

But back to the business at hand. My resolutions, AKA Promises to Myself that I Fully Intend to Break in 2006 are:
1. Blog, damnit.
2. Finish my other, real life journaling project.
3. Get back to other crafts that don't involve needles and yarn.
4. Knit more.
5. Petition the people that make the time to add a couple more hours to the day so I can fulfill items 1-4.
6. Return correspondence in a timely manner. (Hey Rach!)
7. Figure out whether or not I should really get over him.
8. Buy a really cool bike.
9. Ride bike to work on a regular basis. (A 3.4 mile commute really is ridiculous in a car.)
10. Convert office from slovenly storage area back to real, professional office and KEEP IT THAT WAY.
11. Care more about my job and stop slacking.
12. Have more fun. (see also: ligten up, remove stick from ass, enjoy life, etc.)
13. Stop being a bitch so much.
14. Finally take the GRE.
15. Use fantastic GRE scores to get into fantastic grad school in 2007.

So there you have it. If #1 falls through, I at least promise to post again this time next year to report on how it all turned out.

Heather at 6:03 PM


Monday, December 12, 2005

And you thought the Delta was slow.

I am fairly sure that I spent my entire day reading and brainstorming. I was bored for a good part of it, sort of frustrated by the two-foot-high stack of material I was trying to work through, plagued by the thought that I won't be able to execute this program that I'm supposed to create but have a very limited understanding of.

But now that I'm home, after a ten hour day, I can give myself the five seconds necessary to realize that I've done it. I've fulfilled my "next job" requirements.
1. Never had to tell anyone to sit down.
2. Never have to ask anyone to be quiet.

I haven't "arrived", but my work makes me happy, in a very cerebral can't-quite-put-my-finger-on-it sort of way. I miss my students, a lot, in a worried yet absent mother sort of way. But I'm coming to terms with the fact that I'm not with them anymore, that, at best, I'm functioning as some sort of long-distance relative who only pops in for holidays.

I realize that my life is intensely boring right now. I go to work, I sneak cigarettes at the back of the building, I take long lunches and listen to Martha Stewart Radio, I go back to work, I come home and make tea and sweep the kitchen.

Things are slow here, but right now I need slow.

Heather at 5:37 PM


Sunday, December 11, 2005

On Love and Being a Grown Up

In high school, I knew I was in love. But I wasn't me yet. I wasn't done. And neither was he. Now, we write each other occasional terse emails. asking for addresses to send Christmas cards or for general life updates. I know I could pass him on the street now, and smile and go have a cup of coffee. I thought he was a bad person, many years ago, after he didn't love me anymore. I was wrong. He just wasn't finished yet.

In college, I knew I was in love. But I wasn't me yet. I wasn't done. He was wonderful to me, and exactly what I could never appreciate. He's married now, I think. We don't send Christmas cards or general life updates. I know if I passed him on the street, he would walk the other way. I was a bad person, many years ago, when I knew I didn't love him anymore. It was never him. I wasn't finished yet.

As a grown up, I knew I was in love. I am me now. I am done. I will send a Christmas card, and when I do, I will pay extra postage for the weight of things unsaid. I am not with him, nor he with me. Instead, I talk to him, tell him I'm thinking of cutting my hair. Try to remind him that he hasn't seen my hair in a while, that he might be concerned for its well-being. He says nothing. I haven't been particularly bad or good; neither has he. We have been ourselves. It has not been enough. We are finished, apart. We are finished, together. As a grown-up, I reserve the right to never admit it.

for Lizzie: for never giving up on this stupid thing. I'm back, dear.

Heather at 7:46 PM