Finally. Half way into the semester, I have developed a rhythm. I’m in control. When I have a few minutes of spare time (on the bus ride in maybe?), I use them well. At night, I know when to turn off the light and force sleep. On Sunday, I have to work on Tuesday’s class (because there wont be time on Monday) and Tuesday, I have to imagine a blogpost in the evening hours that I work at the shop. I can’t write it then, but I have to imagine it.
So, having said that, I am about to abandon it all and hit a period of turmoil. Nothing will be as it was up to now. I have disruptions in October, in November, and really, by the time we hit December, I may as well give up, because there is nothing normal about any single day of that month.
It’s funny that I should have developed a good pace now. Useless, really, but for this one brief moment in time – deeply satisfying.
Oh, sorry. You may want a photo or two from today. Well, in between classes and meetings with students, I took a two minute break to gaze out my office window. When students ask why I have the office I do (it’s disproportionately small), I tell them it’s because of this – a huge window that looks out on Bascom Mall and the mighty trees that line its paths.
Another photo? Sure, I have one more: walking home late at night (from the lovely little corner shop), I pass, as always, the big grocery store. It’s open round the clock and I find myself going in more often than not – maybe out of a feeling of solidarity toward the late evening shift. I pick up a few needed items and I head home. It’s a deeply satisfying routine -- comforting, warming, invigorating even, because I know that soon I’ll be safely at the condo, feet up, cup of soup steaming, glass of wine at least half full.
Tonight, though, there is a drizzle that makes me pick up the pace just a little. Though I do pause. Because these pumpkins on a wet walk are too beautiful to ignore.
Cold, wet nights. Beautiful in their own way. No kidding.