Monday, May 21, 2007
What a sad dream
I'm standing just inside the front door of a small house on the street where we lived in Texas. It's not the house we lived in, which was an attractive two-story with a very high elevation, but a plain little single-story rectangular box.
I turn and see in the other room a shadowy Dr. ER and a child. I don't think it's Bird. Both are looking away from me.
I turn back around and, through a window, through a sliver between the shade and the window frame, I see ice and snow on the porch.
"Oh, my God," I say, and open the door. I step outside and turn and look at the house and see that it's decorated for Christmas.
At that instant, I realize that I have lost a year. In the blink of an eye, I realize that I don't remember anything that has transpired over the past year, and, in fact, the last thing I remember is the prior Christmas. I wake up weeping.
Not too hard to analyze this one. I've been working on our house all weekend, trying to get it ready to sell, or rent out.
Saturday afternoon as I did a little trimming on a maple tree, I realized I was going to miss the damn thing. And the wilderness protection area that used to be my vegetable garden. And the little places where Bailey and Riker like to wallow around in the grass and bury and dig up bones. The place where I sit and smoke while grilling for Dr. ER and Bird. This table where I'm sitting, where Dr. ER sat to my right, Bird to the left, me at the end.
We will have to live in a smaller, older house than we have now, I am positive, because the Oklahoma City metro area has some of the least expensive housing in the country and Denver has some of the most expensive.
And 2007 is going to be a complete bust, it looks like. The only way I could stand Bird being gone is that Dr. ER had been spending more time at home than usual, because of her hip recovery. And now she's vamoosed.
I wish I didn't get so attached to places. Houses and streets and neighborhoods are just so many commodities to be used, to so many people. I wish I were one of them.
--ER
I turn and see in the other room a shadowy Dr. ER and a child. I don't think it's Bird. Both are looking away from me.
I turn back around and, through a window, through a sliver between the shade and the window frame, I see ice and snow on the porch.
"Oh, my God," I say, and open the door. I step outside and turn and look at the house and see that it's decorated for Christmas.
At that instant, I realize that I have lost a year. In the blink of an eye, I realize that I don't remember anything that has transpired over the past year, and, in fact, the last thing I remember is the prior Christmas. I wake up weeping.
Not too hard to analyze this one. I've been working on our house all weekend, trying to get it ready to sell, or rent out.
Saturday afternoon as I did a little trimming on a maple tree, I realized I was going to miss the damn thing. And the wilderness protection area that used to be my vegetable garden. And the little places where Bailey and Riker like to wallow around in the grass and bury and dig up bones. The place where I sit and smoke while grilling for Dr. ER and Bird. This table where I'm sitting, where Dr. ER sat to my right, Bird to the left, me at the end.
We will have to live in a smaller, older house than we have now, I am positive, because the Oklahoma City metro area has some of the least expensive housing in the country and Denver has some of the most expensive.
And 2007 is going to be a complete bust, it looks like. The only way I could stand Bird being gone is that Dr. ER had been spending more time at home than usual, because of her hip recovery. And now she's vamoosed.
I wish I didn't get so attached to places. Houses and streets and neighborhoods are just so many commodities to be used, to so many people. I wish I were one of them.
--ER
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Boy howdy. I know. I spent yesterday looking at houses, feeling the spirits of those who used to live in them and wondering if they missed the things I find myself attracted to. And knowing how much I will miss my house.
I'm also making sure I have an outside outlet for my smoker, which has never yet been used.
I'm also making sure I have an outside outlet for my smoker, which has never yet been used.
Ya know, when I'm in Denver, I'm excited to be headed that way. When I'm here, I'm very sad and distressed about leaving. It'll help when I have something to look forward to up there, a job, I mean. Right now, it's all just a big blank, except for unpleasant things like higher cost of living, heavier traffic and a longer commute. Hard to get enthused about a big blank ringed with all those negatives framing it.
Isn't that funny? I have the job lined up, but don't even think much about that part. For me, it is the pursuit of the home that's consuming me.
Your dream reminds me of a short John Cheever story, "The Swimmer," which I've never, never been able to get out of my head. Read it at your risk.
X. and I lived in an apartment we loved in a wonderful neighborhood in a city that I consider "home." When X got the job he'd been preparing for all his life in a small Midwestern university town, I had to make lists of all the things I hated about the place...from the tenants of the walkup across the alley who dropped their garbage out the window into the dumpster (and usually missed) to the cicada killers that divebombed us in the summer (scary giant hornets that live in the cracks of old buildings--you should see one take down a katydid) to the constant, relentless sound of the elevated train line half a block away (which had once been soothing but which I taught myself to hate). All so I could detach myself. And I was still depressed and homesick for years. But I'm better now, and learning to love the place I'm in.
X. and I lived in an apartment we loved in a wonderful neighborhood in a city that I consider "home." When X got the job he'd been preparing for all his life in a small Midwestern university town, I had to make lists of all the things I hated about the place...from the tenants of the walkup across the alley who dropped their garbage out the window into the dumpster (and usually missed) to the cicada killers that divebombed us in the summer (scary giant hornets that live in the cracks of old buildings--you should see one take down a katydid) to the constant, relentless sound of the elevated train line half a block away (which had once been soothing but which I taught myself to hate). All so I could detach myself. And I was still depressed and homesick for years. But I'm better now, and learning to love the place I'm in.
"I wish I were one of them."
The hell, you say. No you don't. It don't fit you at all.
Is a job what it will take to make you feel right? Why not being enrolled in Seminary or the University. Why is a "Job" the primary component of your identity? Money, you say? You need a job to have money. Proverbs does say that money answereth all things. But hell...at the risk of sounding like comercial... just do it. Step out on faith. Hell, just step out....something will happen.
The hell, you say. No you don't. It don't fit you at all.
Is a job what it will take to make you feel right? Why not being enrolled in Seminary or the University. Why is a "Job" the primary component of your identity? Money, you say? You need a job to have money. Proverbs does say that money answereth all things. But hell...at the risk of sounding like comercial... just do it. Step out on faith. Hell, just step out....something will happen.
Dr. has quietly withdrawn her support for my continuing my education. "I don't want to be the only breadwinner," she said.
That's a fact, and it floors me.
That's a fact, and it floors me.
Oh, SW: I have layers of homesickness -- for eastern Oklahoma, which has weakened considerably over 10 years, for northwest Texas, which only fairly recently started to fade after seven years.
It takes me forever to get to feeling like a new place is hone, then it takes forever for me to let it go.
It takes me forever to get to feeling like a new place is hone, then it takes forever for me to let it go.
Oh, and I mean moral support, general encouragement, etc. I was gonna go way into debt if I did any sort of grad school, out of obvious necessity.
So what does an graduate assistantship pay at boulder?
$10,000...$12,000..more ? Not big money but it would also include tuition waivers worth about $6,000 a year.
Not quite a "job", but it is an income. And it is almost a requirment to be an assistant to enter into the ole boy academic systems.
What about teaching journalism and history at the high school level? Man there ain't nobody that don't need teachers anywhere.
Think outside the box.
I hear carjacking is lucrative in Denver for example.
$10,000...$12,000..more ? Not big money but it would also include tuition waivers worth about $6,000 a year.
Not quite a "job", but it is an income. And it is almost a requirment to be an assistant to enter into the ole boy academic systems.
What about teaching journalism and history at the high school level? Man there ain't nobody that don't need teachers anywhere.
Think outside the box.
I hear carjacking is lucrative in Denver for example.
Hey, I was in grad school for a long time. Got out of it what I needed, but learned that another degree isn't necessarily the answer. It takes time and it kills your life, and it takes a tremendous toll on your spouse. What I learned was that you can do more with what you have than you think and be appreciated and compensated in ways that just don't really exist in academia. Seriously.
What I want to do is research and write history and wiggle my way into state and regional history conferences, which, here, I've been able to do, based on the quality of my work. I reckon I can keep doing it anywhere, with or without a pee aytch dee. The M.A. is the minimal ticket for admission, and I got that. But a pee aytch dee has been a possible carrot at the end of my stick since 2001. I really do not want to enter the traditional academic world, not past possibly ripping them off for another degree, I mean. Seminary would be such a radical departure, there is no comparison -- but even that plays into my interests in history, so it makes sense. The seminary thing is more workable, actually, I think, because it's more flexibly aimed at mid-career people in some ways that pure-dee academe still doesn't get.
BTW, it's not that I can't afford to go to grad school; it's that I can't afford not to have a full-time salary. Bills, y'all.
BTW, it's not that I can't afford to go to grad school; it's that I can't afford not to have a full-time salary. Bills, y'all.
"BTW, it's not that I can't afford to go to grad school; it's that I can't afford not to have a full-time salary. Bills, y'all."
Uh, that's kinda circular thinking isn't it? So that means part-time is possible? Especially at the seminary? OK. You can "afford" to go to school part-time while working?
Uh, that's kinda circular thinking isn't it? So that means part-time is possible? Especially at the seminary? OK. You can "afford" to go to school part-time while working?
No, really, in Denver, considering the cost of living and bills, I cannot afford to work part-time. Not unless I get a part-time job that pay what I make working full-time now, which is beyond the realm of possibility.
But hey. It'll work out, whatever "it" turns out to be. My last point was that I might could attend seminary while working full-time, and I cannot work on a pee aytch dee while working part-time. I mean, it's even usually spelled out in pee aytch dee programs that one cannot work full-time. Which is what I meant by pointing out the difference between oh-so-stupidly-traditional pee aytch dee programs versus most seminary programs.
So, the realistic options appeare to be: Work full time, go to seminary part time, research and write history as I've been doing.
And hope that along the way I write a best-seller that lets me concentrate on what I really want to do rather that what I actually have to do!
Tremendous irony: Dr. ER is in fricking Montana tonight, going to a pig roast! How cruel the gods are.
But hey. It'll work out, whatever "it" turns out to be. My last point was that I might could attend seminary while working full-time, and I cannot work on a pee aytch dee while working part-time. I mean, it's even usually spelled out in pee aytch dee programs that one cannot work full-time. Which is what I meant by pointing out the difference between oh-so-stupidly-traditional pee aytch dee programs versus most seminary programs.
So, the realistic options appeare to be: Work full time, go to seminary part time, research and write history as I've been doing.
And hope that along the way I write a best-seller that lets me concentrate on what I really want to do rather that what I actually have to do!
Tremendous irony: Dr. ER is in fricking Montana tonight, going to a pig roast! How cruel the gods are.
Damn it:
Strike: "and I cannot work on a pee aytch dee while working part-time."
Replacew with: "and I cannot work on a pee aytch dee while working FULL-time."
Strike: "and I cannot work on a pee aytch dee while working part-time."
Replacew with: "and I cannot work on a pee aytch dee while working FULL-time."
Well, I saw tonight that Richardson has officially thrown his hat into the ring. I remembered you used to hope he'd run, so I thought I'd stop by and see what was going on. Looks like big changes ER. I only scanned down a couple of posts, but it appears you're heading to Denver and pretty excited about it. Good for you. I hope it works out for you and your family. I stopped by several months back and saw your Mama was sick and in the hospital. I want you to know I prayed for her and I hope she's suffering no ill effects now.
Good luck with your move. I'll try to stop by a little more often.
Good luck with your move. I'll try to stop by a little more often.
Change is always difficult to some degree.
It seems you're being pessimistic ahead of yourself. Why don't you just concentrate on getting there, get a job, live for awhile and investigate when you're on-site. Heck, rent a home for awhile, that will leave lots of options open for moving to an area you might not have thought of all the way from OK.
Get there and start living your life and see what comes up. :)
It seems you're being pessimistic ahead of yourself. Why don't you just concentrate on getting there, get a job, live for awhile and investigate when you're on-site. Heck, rent a home for awhile, that will leave lots of options open for moving to an area you might not have thought of all the way from OK.
Get there and start living your life and see what comes up. :)
# posted by 
: 9:05 AM
: 9:05 AM
It never even occurred to me to move before I lined up a job. I can't even wrap my brain around the idea. Who the heck does that besides spouses who work part-time in the first place? No way. I miss more than a couple of paychecks and I'm screwed.
Sorry, that wasn't very clear, was it. I didn't mean to go without a job. I meant, don't worry about the ancillary activities. Find your job and move, but don't back yourself into a tizzy about whether or not you go to school, seminary or what. Get there and live for awhile and then you'll have a better idea what you and the Doc can handle.
By renting, it doesn't tie you down. It'd give you more time to see what life will be like and give you a better idea what you can handle. (See above paragraph.)
In a nutshell, don't drive yourself crazy--moving in itself will burn out several brain cells. ;)
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By renting, it doesn't tie you down. It'd give you more time to see what life will be like and give you a better idea what you can handle. (See above paragraph.)
In a nutshell, don't drive yourself crazy--moving in itself will burn out several brain cells. ;)
# posted by : 2:16 PM
: 2:16 PM << Home
