Memoirs Of An East Coast Lifeguard

I Bless the Rains Down in Africa
Rejected by TFA. Not the end of the world, really, but it feels like it.

I am trying to keep the whole thing in perspective and remember that it's really nothing at all, but it's made all my disappointments over the past two years come into such clear focus that it's dizzying. I actually wept. I've been rejected by tons of schools, tons of jobs, tons of things, and none of that phased me until this evening when I couldn't even move for being sorry for all the things I've wasted.

Sarah Lawrence asked me to come speak at their Prospective Students Day on Saturday, and I'm not sure what to tell them. I don't think I'd be the best representative for what SLC can help someone achieve. I don't think anyone wants to hear that someone two years out just moved into her parents' basement and is temping at a local paper company. There's just no way for me to twist this into anything other than what it was, a mistake. The entirety of the mistake I made in taking this job is overwhelming. Tonight, I actually thought, "I should have gotten my masters at Rochester." There has never been a moment where I thought that before. I thought, "Life will never be as good as England again," again. It doesn't feel like a set-back. It doesn't feel like anything, really, except a reminder of how little I have to show for myself.

Part of it, no doubt, is that I am crashing from a good weekend. An excellent weekend, with community and conversation and walking. It's sometimes too much to be so happy.

Current Mood: sad
Current Music: Frou Frou

Working Hardly
I had big plans to order this quilt from LL Bean tonight, but I signed on to check my credit card balance and discovered that I already have $200 on it, in addition to the money I need to transfer into my parents' account for rent, and while I get paid every week (so nice!) and it's almost as much as I was making every two weeks at OUP (so, so nice!), I'm still paranoid that I'll be out of work come January and I'm not quite sure how to go about spending and saving. I want the quilt. I've wanted it for almost two months now, and I'm going to buy it with the money that my vacation time paid out. Still, I'm a worrier, so of course I'm going to worry about the same thing everyone else worries about, money, even when it doesn't really matter. It's pointless, really, but I do it anyway.

This may be a bit aggravated by my recent habit for shopping, which is something I'd thought I'd been cured of in college (like competition and watching TV, some bad habits seem to have returned upon my arrival home). I've recently purchased several items I don't really need, and I'm feeling guilty for that. I did, on the other hand, repaint several picture frames that a normal person probably would have discarded, so I guess I can feel good about that. At the end of the day, though, I don't cook and I don't create and I hate that. I don't know how I had the energy in high school, or in college. I remember working hard once, and working a lot. The 9-5 real world has sucked that out of me a little, I think. The data entry I'm doing now, especially, takes a lot out of me. I am constantly typing and printing, and I haven't written any poems, let alone sewn anything. Hell, I haven't even mustered up the energy to buy fabric.

The point of taking this job was to open up my time to do other things, and I need to remember that and refocus my energies. There's plenty of time between 5pm and sleep to do all I want to do. I just forget that, with no commitments and no one relying on me. I just need to spend some time regrouping and then get moving. Starting... now.

The World Be Turnin' Our Way
My parents arrived from China at 3pm today, with four suitcases filled with gifts. My father promises not to show us any of his 3,000 photos until he can pare them down to the best ones, and they sent me their friends' travel-blog and said that they did most of the same things, so they haven't regaled us with too many stories yet, either. They did, however, talk an awful lot about food and shopping, two of my very favorite things. They brought home some wonderful teas, and gave me a beautiful white silk robe with peacocks on it, patterned bowls from Shanghai, a vibrant quilt they got in a market in Beijing, a proper tea set, some jade and glass jewelry, a Mao poster (because I believe in communism, not because I believe in the Cultural Revolution), and some great trinkets. Jill was given much the same stuff, and for themselves, they got a mahjong set and calligraphy kit. I heard more about the trip as they pulled these things from the suitcases, and I think that they both had an amazing time, although they both agreed that the trip didn't change their lives. Maybe formative trips abroad end after you turn 50 or so.

In any event, it seemed as though they loved it, and now I am more eager than ever to take another trip sometime soon. I know it isn't fair to say I haven't been anywhere, when I've been all over New York State and up and down to New Orleans and to the Dominican Republic and twice to Florida in the past seven months and to 23 countries in total, but I do feel that I've never been anywhere. Maybe if I can sit down with my cousin and get things straightened out for Scandinavia this winter, or plan something over Christmas break (I get a Christmas break at my new job!), I would feel better about it. As it is, I'm dying to get somewhere new sometime soon.

I don't know how I should feel about my role as a traveling person. There's a lot wrong with tourism and travel, and I understand that and am fascinated by it. Still, the movement of it all makes me feel in a way that I don't normally, and it changes me and refreshes me and I want that sometimes, is all. Wouldn't it be lovely if these things were always my biggest problems?

People Person
I am in pain.

Today, I threw my back out, first just a little while I was cleaning, and then a lot when my cat ran out of the house and I chased him until I grabbed his paw and picked him up and brought him inside. I think he was angry at me for pulling on his paw, but then I let him sleep on my heating pad for a few minutes, so we're even. Except that he's just fine and I can't walk, or even sit up. I've thrown my back out before (I was never particularly kind to it, dragging row boats the way that I did when lifeguarding, and then rowing for a semester just exacerbated the problem. The first time I ever threw it out was during a regatta where we'd had to row at half-speed because the boat was rigged incorrectly), but it's never been this bad before, and no one is home except for me and the cat, so being immobilized has not been fun.

It's been particularly rough because I'd been looking forward to going to Shelby's birthday party for almost a month now, and although I tried twice, I can't bend myself to fit into my car, and the idea of sitting for two hours and then climbing three flights of stairs is painful. In addition to the major suckage of missing this party, I watched every episode of House I have on DVD, and can't get to Hollywood Video to get three new ones. It's been a nice, quiet month, but right now, I cannot wait for my parents to get home from China tomorrow. I was in so much pain, I even forgot to wish my mother a happy birthday when we chatted on skype today. At least it's not her birthday for her there anymore. My father apparently bought her a very expensive black pearl and diamond necklace and earring set. I don't think she much minds me forgetting.

On the brightside, it's pouring, and the sound of rain outside is just lovely. Also, having to lie on a heating pad all day (despite actually burning myself pretty badly) means that this is the first time in a very long time that I've been really warm. Nothing like spending the day cozy in bed while it rains outside.

Except going to a party.

My New Life

It was beautiful out today.

Actually, it's been beautiful out most every day I've been here. I have such a tremendous desire to go hiking and sleep under a quilt and see the sky. In Lake George, I felt as though I'd never seen so many stars. Someone played "First Day of My Life" on a guitar and there was a fireplace and gas lanterns. It was so much what I wanted that I almost stopped wanting it. (The kitchens were old and that makes me think they are dirty.) I didn't, though. I still want that.

I'll be honest. I have no idea why I'll probably end up back in the city next year.

I've started a new job. I try really hard not to think the awful things I think the whole time I'm there, but I still think them. They've started to trust me a little bit with properly entering data and calling people to get really basic information, so I was a little busier yesterday than the day before. The day before I mostly stared at a blank computer screen and hated myself. I'm glad that's over now. I missed OUP a little then, but I guess I don't now. The new job is like the panopticon. I may like it soon, though.

If it gives me less freedom, it at least pays better. I have become materialistic, so the extra money is a godsend.

I've been a little preoccupied with things to buy Roger lately. Most recently, I wanted to get him a peacoat at an Army/Navy Surplus store. There are other things, too. I want to buy things for me, and lots of other people, too. Tea balls and expensive slippers and Adirondack chairs. I also keep wanting to hang things up on my walls, but I'm a little afraid of the commitment. We'll see how it goes. My parents get back from China on Sunday. Maybe that will get me moving a little.

A Big To Do
.Stop eating meat.
.Practice your sample lesson plan.
.Call the library to volunteer with the literacy group.
.Paint your photo frames black.
.Move books from attic.
.Find out if Oxford insurance does vacation overrides.
.Finish The Color Purple.
.Hang some stuff on your walls.
.Watch copious amounts of "House".
.Write substantive post about the new ways you are being challenged.
.Obtain hip new music and a Halloween costume.
.Pay parking tickets (3).
.Do something creative, for the love of God.
.Order quilt and moccasins from L.L. Bean.

This Is Our Decision
I've just read two poems and both of them boiled down to this: I am not what I could have been.

It's an interesting idea, and one that I don't like to believe in, or think about. Yes, I am still shocked that I'm never going to be a doctor. No, I don't want to be a doctor. I just sort of expected that it would happen. Not against my will, exactly, but somehow. I don't really know where I'm going with this. Just that, things are so far away from where I'd expected them to be. I guess that's fine.

I quit my job to take a temporary position closer to my house. On the one hand, I think this is a great move, because I'll have time to volunteer and write and exist, and it's bringing me into the mindset of making a real change this summer. On the other hand, I like having health insurance and I don't know how I feel about giving up my last daily connection to the city. In any event, everyone at work has been incredibly kind to me, and there really are some things I will actually miss about my first full-time job.

We'll see where this goes. I can't even really consider where I am going to be in a year from now. These things feel so far away sometimes. I know that everything will just flash by, as things do now, but I'm just one of those people who always looks ahead. If this year has taught me anything, it's to live more in the moment. Things are breathtakingly beautiful now, in a way that they never were before. Putnam County is breathtakingly beautiful now that I've been away. The leaves, and the curve of the roads and just everything. You can't even imagine. You just can't even begin to imagine.

I'm also a little embarrassed to be putting this on here (but not so embarrassed that I won't), but I feel like things are making a real curve in my life lately. I don't know if Roger would agree with this, but I feel like things with us are just really amazing right now. I don't think it's that we're on the same wavelength, because that would probably be asking too much. Instead, I think it's that we're both trying to be on the same wavelength, and the effort makes all the difference. We are, recently, more balanced than I could have ever believed. Having a good time of it for now, at least. I don't think I would have been happier if we'd happened to have gone to college together, but he definitely makes me see upstate New York and traditional college in a new, brighter light.

Here's to making the most of the situation.

Material Things
Today, I purchased a kelly green hoodie with faux-fur lining at Old Navy. It looked a little like one I'd been craving from L.L. Bean, and I'm going apple picking with Roger on Saturday, so I figured I ought to buy something warm and preppy to wear. Afterward, maybe we'll go to Moosewood for lunch. Lately, I'm enjoying such things as my down comforter and my hardwood floors and the sound of outside things. I don't know that there's anywhere I'd rather be for fall than right where I am. I have three, possibly four trips planned upstate this month and I could not be more pleased. At any given moment, I would rather be on the water or in the woods. Maybe I was never so good surrounded by so many people. I'm even almost thrilled at the prospect of the bleak winter.

Just so you know it's not all golden leaves and dark river water, I'll also note that my father purchased The Beatles: Rock Band, and was playing it with my sister until around 11:30pm. It's eerie just how similar those fake drums sound to real drums when they're being hit repeatedly directly over your bedroom. Now, I feel bad for having had all those sleepovers while my grandmother slept below.

Forget What?
I am adjusting well to the new way.

My move home wasn't terribly stressful, though I do believe it's the last one I'll ever make without a uhaul. This says something, both about the sheer amount of things I own, and about my own level of stability. I'm rather enjoying my little apartment downstairs, even the bits with wood paneling, and once it's finished, I think I'll like it a lot. As it is, the kitchen needs grout, a backsplash, and an oven, and the living room needs flooring and a ceiling. I'm hopeful it will be done by the time my parents leave for China, but if it isn't, I suppose I'll survive. Most of my furniture is in my bedroom, and the living room is cluttered with tools and such, and so I'm having trouble visualizing where I want anything, and also unpacking anything, so it's going to take some time, but I'll get there. I'm going to have a holiday party, so it'll all be finished by then. I am looking forward to this.

Even my commute this morning was lovely. It was crisp, but not cold, and I got to stare off at the river and hills while waiting for the train, and I wondered why anyone would ever live so packed together as we do. The train ride itself was gloriously quiet, and I had a seat the entire time, and the walk from Grand Central to my office smelled like cooking food. At night, I much prefer the sound of crickets to streetnoise. There are things I don't love -- lack of water pressure, a lack of farmer's markets -- but overall, I'm content. I feel, at least for now, as though I were wrapped in a quilt overlooking a lake. There is a lovely, placid sense of self and of cold.

Finished
I sent in my application. If I'd re-read my essay one more time, my eyes would have started to bleed, and I know everyone around me is sick of hearing that I'm "about to send it in," so I just held my breath and did it. Of course, then I got the email asking for two recommendations and an official transcript, and I'm realizing that my applications are really only just beginning. I don't want to die, but I would like to get to the point where I'm looking back on things a little. I'm looking to move so I have a challenge, so I can help someone, so I can do something. I am endlessly torn between wanting to do something amazing and something tiny. I'd be happier if I could just force myself to follow Roger around, I'm certain of it. But then, who would I be? Frankly, who am I going to be, regardless?

I'm also worried I'm taking too much time off from work. I'm not, of course. I've taken two days off, and I'm planning to take 10 more off in February, if I'm still working there by then, and one and a half more this week. Then, one for the interview. I'll try to do my phone interview somewhere quiet over lunch. I can't believe I'm actually concerned with how much time I'm taking off. I don't think I've ever cared about that. The only time I've ever felt even a little chastised at work was when Shelby's mother asked me why I was even bothering to have a job lifeguarding, if I was going to take half the summer off for vacations anyway. I'm glad of my savings, and a good deal of that money came from lifeguarding for those summers, but frankly, the vacations were more important. I feel the same way about this job. Only, I guess I'm worried about it a little, also.

Had an amazing day at the Brooklyn Book Festival, though. The first panel, on David Foster Wallace and John Updike, was very interesting, and now all I want to do is jump into Infinite Jest all over again. I also finally saw Anne Carson read, after five years of trying, so that was lovely, and I also enjoyed a panel on "Africa in the Age of Obama," where they talked more about politics and less about literature, but that's okay sometimes. It was just wonderful to be alone and thinking all day about things that aren't myself. One of the panelists on some panel said, "We're the only species that worries about narcissism. You don't see dogs wandering around thinking, Do I think too much about myself? No, they focus entirely on themselves and we should also." Of course, I can't agree with him, but it was interesting. Another panelist, on another panel, said, "Really big bookshelves are all about death. You'll never be able to finish all those books, but you pretend you won't die and will have time to read them." It was just wonderful.

Last night, I watched "A Streetcar Named Desire," and while I think Tennessee Williams is a bit melodramatic, Marlon Brando was simply beautiful. Tonight I'll watch "On the Waterfront," maybe. I haven't seen it since high school (haven't seen any movies, really, since high school), and I remember him being beautiful in that, as well. Ah, but then there's also "Mad Men." For me, anxiety clearly begets watching of moving images. Something to think on, I suppose.

On Mobility
There are boxes and lamps and suitcases and furniture in the center of my room. I tore them all out to put things in the boxes and get myself ready to leave here, and now I'm too overwhelmed by everything crowding me into my bed that I can't even think about putting things in them. This is essentially the story of my life right now: everything torn out and a mess in the middle, waiting for me to think about putting it back in order.

This is so typical of me.

Gress and Cess.
I have a tableful of homemade gnocchi, drying and set to go into the pot. I like the process of making dough. It grounds me and makes me feel connected to something larger than myself. They're a bit sticky, and I'm worried they'll fall apart as soon as they hit the water (hence the drying), but I suppose then I'll just have to focus on the process, and maybe make ravioli for dinner instead. Such is life. I don't think I'm going to the farmer's market this morning. It's so beautiful and makes me so happy, and I don't think I have the energy for that kind of happiness today. I am going to see the New Amsterdam Village though, because I love living history and stroopwafels. Even just the thought of it makes me smile, and walking alone through Bowling Green is always wonderful. All the better if I can buy some cheese and see a greenhouse.

I also need to pack a little, which always depresses me, and which I find tiring. I'm going to try to do a little bit of that until noon. Oh, progress. I'm moving out bit by bit to make this easier, but I don't know that it is. No matter how many times I've moved in the past five years, it just doesn't seem to get easier. Who would ever have thought I'd want stability?

Anyway, if I have anything that you want, just ask. I'm so sick of my things that you'll most likely get it.

Current Mood: blank
Current Music: Slip Sliding Away - Paul Simon

On Paper
I wrote a nice long bit in my paper journal today, and it felt good. I like having something in-the-moment, and I guess it's surprising that it's my composition notebook that ends up being that, since I keep it at home, and don't write in it as often as I should. I've been open recently, and it's a nice reminder that there's a part of myself that's only for me. I suppose it's a bit hard to follow, since I write in it only rarely. I ought to try writing in it everyday, but I feel I can never quite capture everything, and trying to feels more than futile. Still, with the weather getting colder and nights getting longer, I should hunker down and do something, and writing on paper, a real novelty for me now, feels like doing something.

Some Little Things
First, I just remembered that we made paper chains several times in Oxford for different holidays and celebrations. Paper chains? Really? Paper chains, and walks on the Thames and picnics with Pims? Who did we think we were? No one deserves a life so idyllic.

Second, I just found out that GeoCities is closing, and for some reason this makes me pretty sad. I've gone ahead and archived the very little bit of information I have on mine, but GeoCities was the forbearer to this livejournal, so I thought it deserves some mention. My first website was on GeoCities, and I don't remember what it was, exactly, but it involved my next door neighbor, Emily, and I creating secret screen-names on AOL so that only she and I would know we were online when we were working on it, so that we wouldn't be distracted. I think this was in 1998, when we were both really into the Goo Goo Dolls. I also used the one I link to on here for a journal at one point, although I deleted each entry as they went by, and none are up there now. When I was doing this, in 2003, I wanted them to be public and transient, and now, given my tendency for needless archival, I guess I'm proud of myself for having truly sent something to the void.

On the topic of the void, when I was younger, probably in between the first GeoCities website and the second, I read this website about the Goo Goo Dolls a lot. It was run by this woman, "FabFay" and she posted almost everyday, and then one day it just shut down, and even though I don't even vaguely like the Goo Goo Dolls anymore, I sometimes still wonder what happened to FabFay. I checked on wikipedia, but there's no article, and that's more or less where my research skills end, so I guess I might not ever know. When Spencer died, I remember thinking that his screen-name would sign off. It was connected to his phone, and always on, and I figured it would just flicker out one day. Still, it's been four years, and he still pops up on my gChat box every so often. I can't bring myself to take his name off my AIM list, and I guess the phone company didn't properly disconnect it, and he'll probably be on there until every last AIM user has disconnected, and it's only a bunch of ghosts talking to each other. This whole complex thing is so big, and strange to think about.

Third, I've recently given in to a love for homegoods and dinnerware. Halloween tea towels, wooden spoons, copper drinking cups. I keep wanting things. To think, earlier this year, I just wanted to get rid of everything, and now I am squirreling everything away. The heat in New York seems to finally have broken, so maybe the cooler weather has something to do with it. In any event, I suddenly want to read Family Circle and be Martha Stewart and throw a proper Halloween party.

Glad Hymns of Praise from Land and Sea
I've been reading about Robert Falcon Scott's expedition to the South Pole, and it's got me so sad that I can hardly focus on work. I think I'd like to read his journals, though that reminds me a little of Margaret Atwood's short story in Moral Disorder.

I had the most lovely evening last night, and I'm looking forward to yet another lovely evening tonight, but I am a little exhausted. Roger's moving out tomorrow, and like the end of every party, I'm left feeling a bit disconsolate.

It feels like ninety-one degrees outside, but I guess I'm wishing for autumn as always. There's nothing so comforting as a new school year, and hot tea, and roasted root vegetables, and quilts, and books, and heavy cream.

Real Life
Roger thinks that I've been so anxious over this application because it's the first thing I've cared about in a year and a half. This is probably more true than I'd like to admit. I think I have also been anxious because I haven't applied to anything in a year and a half, and I am no longer quite as capable of writing a summary of why I am the right fit for something as I was when I wrote one or two of those summaries a week.

I've said this before, but I am worried that I'll just forget all about this year. There were memorable aspects, of course; living in the city has had its own joys and challenges, ditto living with Roger. I don't know if you ever really forget your first real job, filled with a cubicle though it may be. The election. But the small details? I think those will (and have) mostly blurred into the background in a year of meaninglessness.

And now, trying to move on from that, trying to do what I want to do and be who I want to be, I feel almost paralyzed by anxieties about my abilities and motives. I'm worried that doing this the way I want to do it means that I'm going to be apart from Roger for another 2 years (and I feel like by now, this is a legitimate concern, not me being a whiny teenager) and I'm worried that me worrying about this means I'm not committed. After all, this application brought to my attention that the only things I've been working on for more than six years are literature/creative writing/publishing, travel, romance languages and social graces, and none of these really amount to hard skills (for all my ten years of studying romance languages, I still barely speak French, can hardly understand Spanish and can't read Latin). My other interests all last about 2-3 years. I might not be as tenacious as I think I am, and I'm certainly no where near as ambitious as I used to be.

Also, I feel like if I had a bigger computer, this would go more smoothly. It's basically impossible to format a resume or write more than 200 words or research for more than an hour on a netbook.

Washington, DC - Days 1 and 2
Roger and I are having a lovely time in Washington. We came so that Roger could do a little research for his honors thesis, at the Museum of African Art, and to do a little sightseeing. Other than a quick overnight visit with my friend Vrinda last March, I haven't been here since I was 12, and Roger's never been, so we're enjoying our time exploring.

Yesterday, our Megabus was a little late (when isn't it?), and we arrived in DC at 2:30pm or so, and headed to our hotel, Rouge, which is hypertrendy, and a little trashy. The trendy part: everything is bright red and they have free hangover brunch of bloody marys and cold pizza every weekend morning. The trashy part: there's a huge mirror overlooking the bed and everything is bright red. Still, it's close enough to everything (about a mile away from the White House and monuments), and was pretty cheap. We grabbed a late lunch at Old Ebbitt Grill. The restaurant is from 1856 (the oldest bar in DC) and has gorgeous green velvet booths and gas lamps. It's pretty touristy, so even though it looks fancy (and there was a wedding going on when we came), they're fine with coming in in shorts and the prices are nothing more than you'd find anywhere else. After, we walked around the monuments, and Roger catered to my desire to have a picture of us in front of the Monument. That night, we went to a Thai restaurant with Vrinda, followed by walking around DuPont Circle area and visiting Kramerbooks and Afterwords Cafe, which had fantastic books, including Handmade Home, and a very cool ampersand decor. We finished up the night by getting fantastic ice cream at Larry's, which was really good (almost as good as Blue Marble, and with more flavors), but had a bizarre mural based on "Guernica" with ice cream.

Today, we had bloody marys and cold pizza, and headed out to the National Museum of African Art, by way of HSBC (we'd found a stray credit card on the street yesterday, and returned it there this morning). Roger had been planning to do part of his thesis on the permanent collection there, but after we arrived, it turned out that just about none of the permanent collection is on display, which was pretty upsetting. They had a really lovely ceramic water bottle, but not too much else. I liked a lot of the art in the exhibits, but there were some really big problems with their presentation. We then wandered around in the heat, before deciding to get lunch at the National Museum of the American Indian, which was pretty good, and divided up by region. After that, we headed over to the National Museum of American History, where we saw the First Ladies' gowns, Julia Childs's kitchen, and some presidential memorabilia. Completely exhausted after seven hours of walking and visiting museums, we headed back to the hotel, and are now enjoying the air conditioning, because it's hot outside!

Roger wants me to note that we're having a debate about whether we should go out or get pizza with garlic butter dipping sauce delivered to the hotel. We're really not, though. We're definitely going out in a little while. Overall, though, we like DC. The city is spread out, so it's been a lot of walking, but the city is very lovely with all its white marble, and the museums are mostly free, which is fantastic. We're still not sure what we'll do this evening or tomorrow, so we're open for suggestions.

Clarity
I just looked over a few of my most recent entries, and realized that they're all completely incoherent. Sorry about that! I'll post with something a little more clear soon. I've been reading friends' twitters and facebooks and blogs and such, but I miss how personal livejournal used to get. Anyway, I wish everyone would update, but given my recent writings, I guess I can't complain much.

On Canoes
I'm at my parents' house for a wedding this weekend, and between my days at work being hellishly busy and my toothache boring into my skull and these fucking bangs I decided to get that were really a terrible idea, I'm filled with introspection and exhaustion. I feel like I missed some sort of boat, either because I'm 23 and still have no idea what I'm doing with my life, or even where I'm going to be living in 6 months, or because I'm 23 and my life is far, far to stable for someone my age. For a long time, I've been saying that I wanted to take some time off to travel, but now that it comes down to doing it alone, or at least mostly alone, I'm having second thoughts. I considered going back to Oxford for a bit, but most everyone I know has moved on, except for a few kids in the four-year programs, and anyway, what is Oxford if you aren't studying? Someone at a work dinner last night prefaced his sentence with, "I don't mean to be sexist," which of course meant that he was about to be, and said, "but have you seen Mad Men? Publishing used to be just like that. All the girls from Vassar and Sarah Lawrence used to come down and slave away." Of course, another tipsy colleague had to mention I'd gone to one of those very same schools and wasn't that hilarious? He said, "Well, that's quite a pedigree. You've got something there." And of course, coming home, my parents saying, "We thought college would get you something better than teaching. We should have realized it really isn't so important where you go." And who is more wrong? It's not for lack of trying that I'm not in England now. But I do ask myself those same questions. If I'd known I'd end up thinking so hard about teaching, would I have spent such money on college? Wouldn't it have been a shame if I hadn't? My new coworker tells me that my degree wasn't worth the $100,000 extra it cost over hers. I can't think of money anymore, honestly. I tracked my spending in July, and this is what I discovered: I spend too much money on eating out. In my paintings of heaven, we're all feeding each other. In my paintings of heaven, I have $30 measuring cups and $200 quilts and never have to wake up to an alarm. Nothing I do there is prestigious and no one puts any sort of value on it. Things just are.

What Do You Want?
This is a list of things I want: a fireplace; enough money to stop worrying so much about it; to make a quilt that fits my aesthetic and looks great on my sleigh bed; to mix toile and plaid and ticking stripe on twin beds in a cabin; a wrap around porch; Christmas trees; a pencil skirt; new jeans; flannel shirts and flannel pajamas; button down shirts; bonnets; a better-stocked garden; to appreciate art; glass jars; a huge wood dining room table; white kitchen tiles with an antique-style lip; more push-up bras; to be more willing to put make-up on in the mornings; for all my favorite people to live on my block and stop moving away; to move away for a few years; to go to Spain again; to go to North Africa and Central Asia; to practice my French more regularly than I do; to be a really, really good cook; to not have a television; to submit some poetry; to read a really good, really interesting book that I want to be reading; some sort of safety net for the less fortunate; both huge and tiny hats; more artwork on my walls; to find my own aesthetic and go with it; to have dinner parties with place-cards; time for coffee and contemplation every morning.

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