Still from Goshogaoka by Sharon Lockhart
Well. A year has passed. I have been taken away by regular life events: moving, new jobbing, parenting. Nothing terribly remarkable. I guess I need things like writing a public, electronic diary a lot less now. Understandably. Being a single parent of a strong-willed, energetic, and no longer fucking napping three-year old can take its toll. Starting a new academic job as a junior faculty at what feels like a senior age can preoccupy one's thoughts. And returning to the place of one's birth, after adamantly refusing to ever live here again (twice now!) can be hard to square. Not to mention a boyfriend that lives miles away, parents that live too close, and too few friends in a town that is at once foreign and hostile while nostalgically familiar in eerie ways.A quick update: The rents here are insane. Being a professor does not, in this day and age, really pay the bills. Academia is competitive (duh!) It is hard to make new old friends. Certain cities overly influenced by certain industries can feel superficial and one gets damn sick and tired of plastic surgery billboards suggesting yearly subscriptions rather than one-off augmentations/reductions/suctions/injections. It can all feel like an uphill battle of mythic, Sisyphean proportions. BUT.
I have a tidy little office. I actually get to teach in a subject I love. Part of my job is to make films. And the kid and I have got our thing down. Songs that we both like, a few syncopated dance moves, a couple arts and crafts activities under our belt. The boyfriend is spectacular when he is around and when he is not, I get some much needed time to myself.
We are finding the rhythms of the days. That is not to say that in many ways it doesn't still feel like we are living in limbo. We'll need to attend a decent school eventually which means we'll need to find a new place to live. A new place we can afford. I really should sit down and have that much-needed conversation with my mom about why we never seem to get along. I am not sure a long-distance relationship where neither partner will be moving to the other partner's location is sustainable.
But we put our best foot forward. We take one day at a time. We stay calm and fill in the blank. We site all the cliches and more. And mostly, hardly, barely and sometimes, the wheels don't fall off. We do it anyway. We choose to believe in the momentary, fleeting sweetnesses that humble our day.
