I've been writing at my newspaper gig, seemingly non-stop since my last post. It left me completely forgetting about this free-space, so to speak. There's a lull (and I have some time to kill)so inspiration calls me to my keyboard once again.
The opportunity to write for myself comes and goes and I have a few half-full journals to prove it. Getting it into a cohesive project has yet to happen, however, the opportunity may be on my horizon. Last month, George and I talked about him supporting my desire to teach full-time next fall. The next week, my boss at the college where I adjunct said she would "try" and slot me for a full-time temporary position. Hooray- but I'll believe it when it's affirmed next spring.
A year ago, I was beyond miserable with my city job and was about to eulogize my grandmother at her memorial service. I stuck it out, thanks to George's seemingly endless amount of support and here I am a stronger, wiser woman. Central Park used to be my sobbing ground, now it's the sanctuary it should be for me during lunch breaks.
Last year, my relationship with my older sister was getting better but still a little awkward. Last night, we went to a concert at the Garden and the rapport we used to have before she got married returned. It just showed up over pad thai and carried us on the train ride home. Even though I'm the younger sister, I took the train part way home with her and made her call me when she made her connection. She doesn't like the city much and it was so late at night I just wanted to be sure.
My life as a writer continues to expand and change as well. My friend from grad school started up an ezine which I want to submit something to. I have to dig through my work and see what's worthy of submission.
At the newspaper, I've written theater reviews, concert reviews, walked through a golf course converted to an outdoor concert space to review a festival, and the list goes on. Sure, I'm getting paid peanuts but it does pay a bill or two that finds its way to my mailbox every month.
The one part of my life that I cannot write about is the specifics about George and me. Partly it's to protect our privacy and partly because I simply cannot put it into words.
I could list adjectives: enthralling, romantic, comfortable, helpful, supportive, predictable.
I will say this: we are the Tortoise (me) and the Hare (him) when it comes our approach to life. This will take some struggles to adjust to if we ever change the status of our relationship. I want to both move forward and hang back where we are at the same time. He tells me how he feels (sometimes) but I cannot put it into words here.
A year from now, I really hope I'm not writing a blog entry from this desk where I sit. I want to be home, making dinner and having a glass of wine. And I want a puppy next to me too :)
