Our New Life
October was another up and down month, but mostly we were slowly getting used to our new life.
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Sitting with the women (I am the only man working there) in the staff room, I am comfortable. I am not worried about the big stuff. I just keep myself and fit into the puzzle of the place.
I had dreams of parent night and such. My mind is full of work. I don’t mind it much, except I am waking up at 5 am whether I have to or not, and, because my mind is framed in work, I am not writing poetry.
I am so tired. Last night the dog took a literal nose dive off of the bed. I am trying to figure out how to sleep on Sunday nights.
A bird staggering down a steep hill talking as it died.
I am beginning to get a handle on the whole job. I started a bulletin board. Next I need make a system for observations.
Sarah is so emotional and brilliant with children. Her instincts and excitement are invading the class with a light and energy that carry us through our days.
Cheryl keeps us grounded and steady. I fall somewhere in between. We have a good balance.
I am overwhelmed and whelmed and still hanging in. I know I have to do more.
I cannot stand meanness in any form. I outrages me and makes me feel out of balance, full of cracks down to my foundation. Petty business disgusts me, the way landlords niggle nickles and dimes out of poor tenants and think themselves justified, the way people moralize about religious points of view working politically to make people who do not share their views subject to them. It all seems too small and frightened. Where is courage? Why do people cower so?
Something must have pissed me off, I can’t remember what of a hundred things it could have been.
Our orientation went well. I believe everyone had a feeling of being in the right place.
I wake up at 4:00 am (on a Sunday)and there is no going back to sleep. Listening to Tom Waits, Pet Sounds (Beach Boys), The National’s new album (High Violet), watching the clouds turn gray as the morning comes up. Coffee and cheerios. Maybe I will go for a walk.
My life here is so like a ghost, haunting the early morning dark, while life goes on late into the night. My living is among people I do not know well in Everett, who are becoming friends, little by little.
I felt out of sorts yesterday. My life is so strung up, and dictated by limitations of time and energy. I wake up early and have to go to bed so early. Weekends are seeming like distractions form work. I haven’t found a rhythm in all this yet.
Chilean miner Osman Araya (right) is welcomed by his wife Angelica as he comes out of the Fenix rescue capsule after been brought to the surface on following a 10-week ordeal in the collapsed San Jose mine, near Copiapo, 800 km north of Santiago, Chile. Araya was the sixth from the 33 trapped miners to be lifted from underground. (HUGO INFANTE/AFP/Getty Images)
Can you imagine what it was like to be stuck in a caved in tunnel for 10 weeks? I can’t. I don’t even want to try. Human beings are amazing!
I am alright with it all. I have decided to go with the flow, whatever that might be.
I set up my computer. It runs so well. I will be able to many things with it.
A beautiful day for a drive yesterday and lovely sandwiches from a bakery in Edison. We (Mary and I) heard an eagle as we walked around the Padilla Bay Interpretive Center and found the tide too high to get to the beach.
I am weathering this bit of rough weather. I feel shaken and weary, but still hopeful that things will continue getting better and that the things that are broken will eventually get fixed. Mary needs more work. I need to commute less and have more time to work on things besides my job. Rowan is settling little by little. Jordan is into his life again. Dustin is back at school a little shaky at first, but smoothing as he goes. My job is going very well as far as I can tell. The benefits for Mary and Rowan need to be figured out, though.
The Beach Boys, “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” is running in my head.
Books I read or listened to in October
I listened to books on my 2 hour commute and did a lot of reading during my lunch breaks.
“Middlemarch” by George Elliot (one of the true classics of the 19 century and deservedly so)
“Everything is Illuminated” by Jonathon Safran Foer (A bit uneven and manipulative, but very funny, possibly the best novel written by someone under 25)