Auld Lang Syne, and 2011: Where you been all my life?

It's been a record year. My first full year without my Mom. A new job as a writing tutor at a community college. Derby! A summer in S. Korea, my home away from home. A new screenplay, and some useful notes on the sci fi bequeemoth script I've been writing since 2005. Space: 1999 entered my life in a way I didn't think possible. My long unanticipated return in front of the camera of a student film. Becoming a great auntie for the third time. Meeting Apolo Ohno in person! Seeing the Count Basie Orchestra in concert, a life-long dream. Joining a gym for the first time in my life. Matt Smith as Doctor Who! Spending Christmas in my own home for the first time since I was 23. Adopting Spaz Kitteh! Taking a stand for myself.

I am excited to spend New Year's Eve with my brother for the first time ever (I think, unless I'm forgetting something). This one 2010 has to share with 2011, though.

I have two intentions for the new year. As I've said before, resolutions are for guilt-ridden ex-Catholic school survivors who never feel their best is good enough. Fuck that shit with a rubber hose.

Intention #1: Stop trying to control everything. Thank the Universe for what's coming and don't try to qualify it. This means live in the moment without trying to build some kind of steam punk mirror contraption to see around every corner. It also means taking everything that comes along as an opportunity.

Intention #2: Get back in touch with relatives. After Mom died, I sequestered myself and withdrew from most family contact except for my brother and nephew. Time to reconnect with my lineage.

Happy New Year to you 'uns. Make the most of everything - zero regrets!

I went to the allergist and had the "prick test" done. This is not a test to see if I'm a prick. It's a test that pricks a person's skin with allergens to see whether the allergic response is activated.

I am allergic to these fuckers:


Also teh kyoot Iz ahlerjik too:


And finally, a bunch of tree pollen, like birch and a few others:


Time to get Nazi on the dust mites.

I am shocked - SHOCKED - that I am not allergic to this nasty shit:

I have come of age

I've been officially blocked from someone's blog! I guess this means I've made it in the Cyber Information Technology Age of the 21st Century. Now, I know what you're thinking: Ms. Bizarro, what did you do to deserve that? Did you cuss someone out in your comments? Did you stalk them and send lasciviously threatening emails? Did you feed their cats poisoned onions? I almost wish I had done any of those things, because then I'd get why I've been blacklisted from this person's life. Close as I can figure, I've been excommunicated because I forgot a birthday (yes, really). Nevermind this person didn't bother to make it to my mother's funeral (yes, really). But the truth is, at this point, I don't need the rotting pork stinking up the kitchen just when things are getting good. And hey, it's one less label (okay, two less labels) for me to have to worry about blogging.

Simplify, simplify

My new life mantra = simplify. From blog headings to weekly menus to organization systems to my morning routine. This is how it's gonna be from now on. See what living in another country can do for you? In Korea, my existence was very simplified; my living environment was simple, my routine was simple (but never boring). My mind was able to focus and I was able to do everything I needed and wanted. I also felt more at ease with things in general. There was no inner strife and conflict with "I want to do this, but I hafta do that; I need to do that, but I wanna do this." I just did what the moment called for and didn't get stressed over it. Because why stress over things? Nothing's accomplished that way. Heck, even when my travel plans were in the balance and I needed help, I only panicked for a little while - then realized there was no point in hanging on to that feeling. I asked for help, and I got it. Nothing to worry about, really. And that's all about keeping it simple, and trusting the 'Verse.

So...how long can I maintain this outlook on my life? Hopefully it'll be a running theme that will continue to manifest, rather than get buried in the pressure of work and external obligations. Those are the most important times to remember this mantra, in fact. So do me a favor and remind me of this post when in two months I get whiny...

Send in the clowns..er, 2010.

Winding down 2009, which has been a year of great transformation, challenges, some new opportunities, and new friendships. I've renewed my interest (read: obsession) with the work of Rod Serling, returned to my roots in sci fi writing, and forged a new partnership with my husband. It has also held the deepest sorrow I could ever have imagined, with a Momazoo-shaped hole in my life. One thing is for certain; I am ready to say good-bye to 2009, but I choose to usher it out with a smile and a hearty "thank you" for the many and myriad opportunities to practice Dharma.

I welcome 2010, the first year of the second decade of the 21st century, with a child-like enthusiasm, a feeling of humble dedication towards making the most out of every opportunity that comes my way. In that spirit, I'm doing away with lists of intentions or resolutions. There is only this one: To celebrate and make the most of every moment of this precious human birth. No wasted time, no wasted opportunities, no matter how small. Every moment to be lived with intention, no matter what the intention, rather than passively letting time and life flow past. This means making choices in all things, from what script to develop, to what to wear to work, to how I eat, to how much time is spent in front of the TV, to what time to get up in the morning, to meditating at my shrine, to what ways I can make City on the Edge of Forever work for me, instead of allowing myself to be depressed and defeated by it.

I wish everyone a healthy new year with plenty of opportunity and intentions of your own. Thank you for reading my burblings on Fred In The Can. Be safe tonight, all you partiers.

Keeping my face screwed on

I've been floundering lately. And I don't mean fishing for flounder. Okay that was dumb. Point is, I've been feeling pretty bad about things of late. I tend to get bound up in all the particulars of "ways in which I am not happy" and I made a very erroneous assumption: that things will always be this way. I lose sight of the fact that a) I'm pulling out of a long, sad, awful period of my life, and it's going to take time to get back on an even keel, b) I really do have some great opportunities to teach and get some good experience under my belt, c) I have time to write, d) I only have to stick it out in City on the Edge of Forever until Bizarro gets his degree; at that point we will decide what is next, and there is nothing that ties us down here (unless we choose to stay).

I'm forever feeling FORCED into the situation, or TRAPPED into something that is mediocre, at best, depressing at worst. I see there are lot of ways my life is not what I'd like, and knowing that I turn 42 in three months doesn't help my feeling of being behind schedule, and just overall feeling like shit about my situation. Still working part time teaching jobs, living in an apartment, driving a car that's slowly falling apart, gaining weight every year, meanwhile the gray hairs keep coming in and I stare at the web-cam of my beach at Nantasket every day, wishing I was by the ocean.

So I have to remind myself every now and again that all that is truly temporary. I've traveled many paths in the first few decades of my life, including the humbling road of being my mother's caretaker and champion, and thus it's taking me a little longer to get where I want to be. But truly I'm a better person for the places I've been. At least I like to hope so.

I am feeling confident that the experience I'll have as an adjunct writing tutor will help me to get a full time job when we are ready to move. I have to believe this, or else it's just another job with no future, like so many I've held before it.

Perhaps that's really what's bothered me - feeling like I don't really have a future. Like I'm just throwing band-aids on top of band-aids. I need to believe that I'm working towards something, with my teaching and writing. I'm not just floundering. Keeping it real, but keeping the dream alive.

Life Begins at 40

I know this is a cliche, and I'm sorry for that, but it happens to be true.

I'm just back from an hour-long walk in the woods. When I entered the wood, I was feeling a bit down about my life journey. Feeling bad that I'm reliant upon a desk job to make a living - AGAIN - at the age of 40. "What have I accomplished, exactly? Why don't I get the breaks every one else gets?" -- that kind of thing.

I emerged from the wood, after meditating and talking out loud to myself and the trees, with a few key insights:

1. I need to define my vision. Then set goals, and make a road map (with the understanding that anything can change at any time, as is the way of life). Y'know that really annoying question they always ask in job interviews: Where do you see yourself in 5 years? in 10? I always answered it with some bullshit I figured they wanted to hear so that I could just get the damned job and pay my bills (and I usually ended up quitting in 6 mos to a year because I was miserable and misplaced). Anyway, so I realized that I really have to make a 5- and 10-year plan. At first this seemed daunting, because I wasn't sure what good it would do me. After all, I'm already 40...

2. I've only been in the work force about 18 years, after graduating college (actually, less than that - 13 years with the combined 5 years of grad schools). So I need to cut myself some slack. I may not be where I *think* I should be, but what is this *should* anyway? The rate I'm going, I won't be retiring until 65-70 anyway. A 10-year plan only puts me at 50, and 50 is not old! The people I know at 50, nearing 50, or past 50, are vibrant, amazing individuals who are still going strong. What do I have to fear? NOTHING! Here all this time I've been thinking that I may as well throw in the towel and get a lobotomy 'cause at 40 it's half over so who cares? How silly!

3. I have learned SO much in the last 20 years, and I'm just about to come into my own, here. My 40s are going to rock~

So I am defining a concise vision statement, and making clear my 5- and 10- year goals. Suddenly, I don't feel like I'm spinning my wheels. The desk job doesn't seem meaningless and pointless. The rest of my life has just opened up to me - it's like looking through an old wooden gate that's just been busted open, and there is light streaming all over the place from the other side. I just have to walk into it.

ADDENDUM:

I just did a quick Google search for "Life begins at 40" and most of what I found were either comic strips that were lampooning turning 40 ("Believing life begins at 40, Dave decided to take it easy for the first 39") or some woman declaring that you can still be sexy at 40, after all look at Sharon Stone and Jamie Lee Curtis. Even if your boobs are a little lower than they were at 21, you can still turn a few heads, so all is right with the world.

These two examples of how our culture treats turning 40 are exactly why I've had such issues with this whole thing. I don't equate my self-worth with being a bombshell (and anyways, anyone can look like those women with enough liposuction and plastic surgery!) and I need to stop thinking of my first 39 years as a colossal waste of time - this kind of poisoned thinking has done enough harm already!

Rollercoaster

Today, I:

1. Left work early and drove to Mom's to take her into the E.R. She's been admitted and they are trying to figure out why she's been short of breath and congested.

2. Was offered the full-time chorch job b/c the other part time secretary gave her two weeks' notice.

3. Felt like a punching bag, a trampoline AND one of those inflatable bounce and jump around rooms at street fairs.

I'm exhausted. Mom is doing okaaaaay in ICU (for the dialysis, she's not in critical condition), and just wants to go home. I have started the ball rolling (as in: Sisyphus) for V.A. Widow's benefits and assisted living placement in a better place than the two cracker boxes I'd already looked into.

The full-time chorch job is being flexible so I can still teach screenwriting this fall, but then after that, I will be a full-time chorch secretary. It sounds awful, I know, but it's a good thing. It's easy work, easy hours, good pay and bennies, and I will have time and head space for creative pursuits while I pay the Direct Loan monstrosity I owe. AND we can hopefully buy a house in the near future.

A weird day, good and bad. A microcosm of Life, I suppose.

Opportunity Knocks

Yesterday on my evening walk, I had one of my "Duh" moments. "Duh" because a piece of inspiration or wisdom hits me and then it seems something that I should have realized ages ago.

It occurred to me that life is nothing but a series of opportunities. When bad shit happens, it's an opportunity to choose between two reactions. Column A: the serenity prayer, anger turned to motivation to effect positive change, a chance to be honest about the causes of the situation, seeing the ways to learn and grow, remain present and let the experience make you more human, and ultimately, more compassionate. Or, Column B: anger turned to bitterness, hardening your heart, becoming selfish and turning away from our true nature. Every single challenge in life is really this opportunity presenting itself again and again in different forms.

And when good things happen, they are also opportunities: to either take and take and not think about it, or to be grateful, and find ways to share the fortune.

Opportunities are everywhere - sometimes we just don't see them. Or we have to make them, instead of waiting for them to smack us on the forehead and say "Helloooo! I'm over heeee-rrrre!"

So yeah - a new view of the world. Not so new really - Buddhists have been teaching this kind of stuff for a couple thousand years. Pema Chodron's books "When Things Fall Apart" and "Start Where You Are" are full of this kind of wisdom. Funny that it took this long for it to sink in, and now I have to continually remind myself when I feel my anger and selfishness creeping in.

Take a moment...

This passage is from the book "It's Up To You," by Dzigar Kongtrul. It's subtitled "The Practice of Self-Reflection on the Buddhist Path."

As appreciation grows, it brings a tremendous sense of inner satisfaction. This is felt in the heart as a rich, rich feeling. If we don't feel this inner satisfaction, it shows a lack of appreciation for what we have. When mind dwells on what we don't have, we never have enough. A mind caught up in poverty mentality is missing the point.

...It is very difficult to rise to the occasion of being rich, powerful, respected, or loved because we feel split inside. On one hand, we want it all; at the same time, we feel undeserving. This gives rise to all sorts of confusion and insecurity.

May all beings benefit!

Life Goes On

Yesterday was Uncle Bill's funeral. It was a tiring day: we drove to pick up mom and then drove another 30 minutes to the city where the funeral was. On a flat tire. When we parked, the parking attendant let me know I had a flat. Thankfully there was a Firestone next door and they fixed it (took 'em about 15 minutes and of course they charged for an hour of labor, those bastards).

The funeral was at the Salvation Army citadel where my Uncle was active. The service was about 1 and 3/4 hours long, and I'd say about 20% of it was about my Uncle. The rest of it was about Jesus and the Bible, with the brass band and all. Not at all moving or cathartic for me or my mom. The only time I really felt anything was at the very end, when the U.S. Army guys came in and unfolded the flag, and Taps was played. That's where I broke down. Since the ground was too frozen for the interment, they did what they would have done at the graveside. This is why they came to the service. I wonder how the U.S. Army guys felt about the Salvation "Army" with their ranks and their uniforms and all that.

The only uplifting thing about the whole experience was seeing my cousins and my one remaining uncle again. We all vowed to be in better touch. My cousins aren't that much younger than I am and they only live an hour away. I hope we all follow through with our promise. I held up my end, anyway. I emailed them last night, so we'll see.

Mom held up pretty well. She told me that on Friday she had her first real cry - it finally felt real to her. I'm glad to know she is grieving and mourning and not trying to repress it.

I am doing pretty well, although I had a very odd experience last night as I was falling asleep. I was thinking over the day's images and impressions, and suddenly I was back at my father's wake. I remember (and this will sound gross to you, I'm sure) that I kept touching his face. I couldn't get it that this was him but it WASN'T. I knew that I would never see him again and so I didn't want to move away from the casket. Last night all of this long-forgotten detail came back to me: there was a soft pink spotlight shining down on his face (a trick of the funeral parlor to make the deceased look healthy), and his rosary beads were entwined in his folded hands. He wore a grey suit, and there was the flag from the U.S. Army folded up inside the casket lid. I remember thinking that he just looked asleep (which I guess is the point of the whole embalming thing). The little prayer cards that mom had printed up had The Lady of Fatima on them, to whom Dad was very devoted. I slipped one inside his jacket and said good-bye. Finally mom had to tell me to stop touching him because there was make-up and chemicals and stuff.

Pretty gruesome, huh? And I never had any counseling over this (I was 11 at the time)! Not until I took myself to see someone when I was in my early 30s. Pretty disturbing, huh?

I guess I'm still processing that loss. I know that it will never go away, that emptiness. But that is life and death, and that is Samsara, and that is just the way it is. I don't have to carry it as a burden. This I've learned, at least.

I promise my next post won't be so depressing.

Reflection

So -- the semester is over and I am officially on winter break. This week I have taken time to work on a couple outstanding issues and have also allowed myself to sleep in. My body is craving sleep.

I've also started meditating again, and it has helped tremendously. I need to keep up that practice even - especially - when things get hairy.

I had an epiphany in the car on the way to mom's the other day. I realized that a lot of my hardship springs from a deeply-seated and unconscious attempt to blame myself for just about everything. My current situation isn't ideal, but it's not horrible or hopeless. Nevertheless, I've been flagellating myself psychologically for somehow being at fault for the current situation. In other words, blaming myself for making bad decisions that have led me to a disasterous present. This faulty thinking assumes two things, incorrectly: 1. the present is a disaster and 2. I could've made better decisions.

I know I had tough choices to make, but I honestly don't feel that I made any bad choices in the last 5 years. Some of those choices Bizarro and I made together, like coming here to I-town, and I don't regret a single one of them.

So what the fuck am I beating myself up for? I've actually made strides in the last few years. Just because I'm not living in a mansion or have 3 kids doesn't mean I've somehow made poor choices.

I am living the life of an academic - and it ain't an easy life. That's just a fact. It's not because I did anything wrong or have incurred the Wrath of the Universe which is therefore punishing me. That's ridiculous - and yet there has been a train of thought running around my brain that's been telling me just that. Consequently, I've been feeling worse about everything that has happened in the last few months.
I've taken it all very personally, which is so un-Buddhist-like that I have to laugh at my own folly!

Ever hear of The Four Agreements? One of them is to not take anything personally. That's a big one for me, since I seem to take EVERYTHING personally.

Moving forward, then, I agree not to take things personally and remember that "life is suffering" which means I don't have to blame myself for every little bump and hairpin turn that comes along. That's not to say I shouldn't be responsible or make decisions carefully - these I already do - but since I do, I need to not cling to the illusion that I can somehow fuck it up by being who I am.

Email Sucks

From now on I'm not using email for anything but the briefest of messages that are business related. I've gotten into two arguments with two different loved ones in the last week because of miscommunication and awful timing of using email.

Thank the 'Verse

I am not yet gainfully employed, but I have some hot fires burning right now and I am hopeful.

Even better, last night I had a long and overdue conversation with my friend and spiritual teacher, Lama Kathy Wesley, of KTC Columbus. She really helped me see through all the ego-clinging B.S. that was piling up, hindering my practice and contorting reality.

The last few weeks has seen a series of crash-and-burns, but I think I'm finally over the crashes. The crashes were all illusion-based, although it is true enough that I do have some long-term decisions to mull over with Bizarro (and we are).

So the long and short is that my situation hasn't changed much since yesterday, yet it has changed, as far as how I perceive it.

We'll see how even-keeled I'm feeling in a month if I still don't have a paycheck coming in and I've run out of money. Ahhh...the life of a writer.

Slope Day

As you can guess, I basically had a breakdown yesterday. I was in pretty bad shape for most of the rest of the day, although I did get some wise words of support from T., Jen, and of course Bizarro. Thanks to PMP for distracting me with pizza, beer, tales from her workplace, and of course THE OFFICE.

Here's my plan:

1. I am going to Korea. I will temp from mid-May through end of June to make my bills.
2. I choose to be patient with the job apps I have out there. It's the busy season and everyone is grading and wrapping up the semester. I need to give it a bit more time.
3. Quite simply: if I don't have a teaching job lined up for next year, I will take an admin job, preferably at the Big Red School on the Hill to get a steady income.
4. I will continue writing NO MATTER WHAT.

Things aren't nearly as f'd up as I'd thought. Oh, what unbridled emotion will do to one's reason. I have a plan, Bizarro has given it his seal of approval. We have our goals for the future and I know what I need to get there.

THe fact is that there are never any guarantees, and I think that I WANTED this job (the one that's about to end) to last indefinitely - so much so that I'd somehow convinced myself that it was going to. Yes, they gave me indications that it would, but there was no contract and no reason to believe that they couldn't change their tune. This is more about my expectations and where I invest myself. I realized yesterday night that I was still really angry at the school for not asking me back, and I felt as if I'd been betrayed. That was underlying all the other feelings mixed into this mess.

So -- I'm still not thrilled with how things are at the moment. But here's what I know:

1. It won't be this way forever - eventually I'll either get interviews or I won't. I'll know one way or another.
2. I have a plan for summer and a way to make money and put some away.
3. I have a back-up plan for fall if a teaching job doesn't come through.
4. Bizarro and I know what we need to do to eventually buy a house. It won't happen overnight, but we qualify for the first-time home owners' program and we'll be able to do it in a couple years.
5. I have enough skill, ingenuity, flexibility, and passion to find a good place to settle down in. It will happen.

Today is Slope Day at the Big Red School -- the sanctioned wild party on campus. Go Big Red! Way to enable alcoholism!

Yin and Yang...

...otherwise known as the Hi Lo Game, from The Price Is Right.

I received an abject lesson in the extremes of life as a writer, aspiring to enter the professional realm.

Last Saturday, as I reported earlier, was a tremendous Hi. On Thursday came an equally intense experience in the opposite direction. A Lo so heinous that it kept me down for two days. I received some "feedback" (notice the quotation marks, which question the appropriateness of the word in this context) from someone I'd trusted to read my sci fi screenplay. Initially, his feedback was this: He couldn't get past page 20 because it was so boring, AND, the main character (who is a woman who happens to be a pilot) needs to kick ass and be more like Starbuck from BSG.

The first piece of his "feedback" was devastating, and the second part of the "feedback" was just ludicrous. It was a slap in the face, psychically. I think he almost enjoyed tossing off his comments - they were said in such a casual way.

At first I just sort of sat there and tried to hear something usable in his rambling. Later I went back to him and demanded that he give me more reasonable information - what was working, what wasn't, SPECIFICALLY. I did finally get some usable feedback that I am taking into consideration when addressing the next draft of this screenplay.

I learned quite a bit from this experience:

1. Be ready for people to be assholes. They will try to tear you down if they can. Or, they are so full of themselves they won't think that they should have to give any thought to their comments. Remember this is a shortcoming on THEIR part, not mine.

2. Also be ready to listen for the kernels of truth even in the most assholian of comments. Try to separate this stupid person's ego from the information, and my own stupid ego from the information. If there is something usable in what the person has to say, then strain all the bullshit and use the usable bits.

3. Trust my gut - I know what's best for my story and characters. Everyone has an opinion and they love to tell the world what it is. Be ready to listen (or not), but don't assume other people are right all the time.

4. Be more careful who I ask to read a work-in-progress. I really need a writing community - a place where trust is developed and everyone agrees on giving appropriate feedback.

5. Use this to become a better writing teacher, as well as a better writer. Remember what feedback needs to accomplish - affirming what's going well, pointing out what's not working, provide some places to help the writer brainstorm his or her own solutions.

In short - I am a good writer, I need to grow a thicker skin, and find my own truth in any situation no matter how unpleasant. And then turn that around and become a better teacher as well.

In the Neighborhood

Since moving to our current apartment in 2005, we've had a few situations that have warranted calls to the po-pos (namely, domestic violence next door), as well as friendly "can you please turn your goddam music down because the bass is rattling the fillings in my teeth" visits to people on all sides of us. I have nick-named the person upstairs "Stompy McBoots" because he comes in and out at all hours and is a heavy-footed person who happens to have really creaky floors. Last summer we found beer bottles left outside our patio, a computer that had been hurled out a window and sat in the grass outside our office for a month, and an occasional piece of trash left near the front door.

I have plenty of complaints about living here, aside from the neighbors. It's really frakking cold in the winter and the bedroom window may as well be a gaping hole the way it lets in rain and cold air.

But what I'm focusing on here today is the issue of neighbors. The domestic violence-neighbor and her live-in BF are prone to screaming and hurling obsenities at her 3-year-old child (which I can hear as plain as day due to the lovely thin walls that separates her apartment from our bedroom).

I have struggled between white-hot anger and complete compassion for this woman and her child. Finally, I had to come to a realization - this woman, her plight in life, whatever's made her who she is, is beyond my control.

I know, you're saying "Well, DUH, Bizarro!"

But it's recently come to me that there is SO MUCH about my living space that is out of my control. There are things that are IN my control, too, and those are the things I need to attend to. Now if I think someone's getting the snot beat out of them, I will call the cops. But noise - the biggest disturbance for me, personally - is not something I can control. I need to just get over it, IOW.

The other day I had a really awful day, which didn't go away once the sun set. I ended up breaking the lid of a sugar bowl that's older than I am, and then jammed my knuckle between the bathroom door and the door to the hot water tank. That was about 11:00 pm and dude, I went OFF. I hollared and banged around for a good 5 minutes. And then I went to bed.

Apparently my husband overheard the domestic violence diva next door say something about "oh, it's okay for HER to..." which I'm assuming was a reference to me and my outburst. Maybe it wasn't, in fact. But even so, the point was well-taken. How can I complain about her behavior when I allowed myself to go unhinged?

So, to sum up. Surviving the neighborhood requires one to mind one's Ps & Qs as much if not more so than those around one (even if they are breaking the lease by making too much noise or trashing their own space). Remember only to "own" that which can be changed, that which is in one's sphere of control.

On My Toes

Life is keeping me on my toes, as they say. Recap of the week thus far:

1. Last weekend spend some QT with my friend The White Witch. Had a great time with her at her house in the middle of nowhere, NY.
2. Came home Sunday night and crashed from lack of sleep.
3. Woke up Monday morning to an email from my Chair saying that they have canceled one of my sections for next semester. (This in effect halves my salary.)
4. Promptly after picking up this email, the internet went out and I spent an hour on the phone with three people at the internet provider place to figure out what the hell was going on. Finally did get it straightened out (DNS error).
5. Proceeded to freak out as soon as the internet crisis was over. Had enough presence of mind to go into damage-control mode and immediately started casting the net for any last-minute adjunct/instructor/lecturer jobs for Spring semester.
6. Came up dry for next semester but did find a full-time tenure track position for next year at a local 2-year school which is actually quite reputable among NYS 2-year schools.
7. Got an email at 9:00 at night from someone I'd emailed earlier in the day. I met her while I was on the Big Red campus last year and we'd hit it off. They are looking for an instructor to teach one section of developmental writing in the Spring. I immediately emailed the director of that program and offered my services. Apparently, they'd been trying to contact me last week.
8. Didn't hear from said director until Wed. They'd prefer to fill the position with someone who already has an appointment at the university. I heard back from my friend who filled in the gaps in his email to say that he'd offered the position to someone already on campus, but he was waiting to hear back from that person. If they turn it down, it's mine.

So I'm waiting.

On Monday I was in shock and panic. Tuesday and a good part of Wednesday I was raging against the machine. Then after speaking with another part-timer like myself and my mentor there at the college, I realized that there was nothing to take personally. It was most likely a monetary decision, and adjuncts routinely get the short end of the stick in situations like these. The "low enrollment" which was the official reason didn't really hold any water, and we all know that. If they'd kept the section open, more students would have added between now and the spring, even if it wasn't full to capacity.

What I came to realize yesterday afternoon is that I should be thankful that this happened when and how it did, for it has forced me to evaluate whether I want to continue a life of "academic temping" which is what life as an adjunct is really like. No benefits, no stability, no respect. Yes, it's great to fill in the gaps and make some money, but do I want to make a career out of it? Not really.

I'll do what I gotta to pay the bills, but I also have to look for a more permanent arrangement. There are benefits to working part time, as long as the work is steady. I enjoy having time to write and do other projects, but at the same time, it would be nice not to have to worry about whether I can make student loan payments in 6 months.

I have introduced myself as an ESL tutor on an international student listserv here, and already I've had a couple bites. I'm learning quickly to stick up for my rates and my standards, however. All good learning experiences!

Tomorrow night we're having a few people over for a holiday potluck. I'm glad, esp. since the week got off to a very rocky start. It'll be good to have the comfort and joy of good friends.

Thanks to JEB out in Boston for her words of wisdom. Extra special hugs and thanks to Bizarro for being a tremendous support and font of love and TLC this week!