what now?

Not really. Now, I paint the walls.

Nobody will be surprised to hear that since I've gotten back from Toronto, I've been pretty consumed with getting the house together. This inevitably means that the other things that ordinarily consume me have withered away a bit. Particularly, I have not been reading for my second comp at all. In fact, I haven't even finished compiling my list. That world seems to "other" to me right now. My friend in Toronto was recalling a recent tutorial that he'd had where students were asking the same question over and over again in different ways. He said, "Do you miss it?" And I have to say, definitively, no, I do not. At least not yet.

I've been teaching yoga as a way to make a living and it's been pretty good. I don't think I'd want to teach a whole lot. I'd say that teaching three classes is about my cap. More recently, I've been seriously considering teaching high school. But I am still firmly on the fence about that too. Frankly, I'm sick of teaching right now - mostly, I'm sick of evaluating and the ways in which those evaluations structure the learning experience. I'm definitely grateful to take a break from it.

So where does this leave me? I'm seriously considering applying for a job at the SPCA near my house. They need an animal care technician. The one thing about that job that gives me pause is that one of the expectations is to learn to euthanize. I think I'd really have a hard time with that. Yet, who better to do it than someone who cares to be there for the animals in their last moments? It's a part-time job. All the better. I'd like to have a couple of part time jobs. In fact, I'd be a-ok with not doing the same thing all the fucking time. Nothing deadens my soul more.

The way I can envision my life is as such. Work with animals a few days a week. Teach one or two academic classes (either at the college level or as a substitute teacher) and maybe two yoga classes. Do some political work in the area, perhaps working with 2640 or the Free School or the UWA - there's no shortage of amazing political projects in Baltimore. All I need is a health care plan. Frankly, this doesn't sound like a bad life to me. The question is: why does it feel like back peddling?

rushed

This post will be rushed, much like my current existence. I am still in house limbo. We just finished refinishing the floors. They are beautiful. I estimate that we will be doing work for the next week and then we can bring the cats in.

I have been so exhausted lately. Our days consist of working on the house. Our evenings are filled with planning what we'll eat, where we'll sleep, and how we'll lug our existences from one locale to the next. After long days of physical labor, that part's the hardest. We have been staying with my mom on occassion (as have the cats - still) and I'm sure that to the suburban elite, we look like crust punks. We are sweaty, covered in sawdust, carrying all the things we'll need on our backs, and wandering around the grocery store looking for food that requires no preparation but is cheap and nutritious.

Pretty soon we'll be able to move our bed back into the house and actually finish rooms. We have to trim out the baseboards and windows in all the rooms. Today, we are demolishing an ancient sewer pipe and carrying it from the house in 3 foot increments. We'll be happy to have that thing out of there given it cuts through the basement stairs.

The great thing is that I can begin to see this project crystalize. I'm excited to build a photo album because the progress, though slow, is really stark.

twin crises

I am back in Baltimore and it really does feel like home. I am eager to "begin" my life here - for it to take some semblance of the shape that it will. But I think I've spent most of my life waiting for my life to start. I've just completed my first comp and I'm now trying to think through the second one. However, moving back here makes that life seem so distant, even though it was only a week ago. This distance is what I feared - that school and its culture will seem hopelessly out of touch with my experiences.

The house still needs a ton of work. We are in the process of laying the floors. We anticipate that will take up all of this week and a bit of next. Then there is the detail work that comes after. This is all feeling very rushed by the fact that my cats are staying at my mom's place and there's definitely an expiration date on the sentiment. So what would perhaps otherwise feel like an enjoyable experience feels rushed and stressful. In frustration I keep crying. I haven't yet hung out with anyone in a relaxed way and my mind is single-tracked for sure.

Freddy, my tabby cat, is really struggling with this transition. I know I shouldn't feel guilty about putting him through this. Clearly his last person didn't care and just threw him into the alley. But I feel so bad for him. I spent the night at my mom's on Monday night and the poor little guy meowed all night. I can't wait for him to get here and watch the birds all day and get cuddles and love.