I didn't enjoy ninety percent of what I was doing. I loathed eighty percent of what I was doing. In the midst of the spinning, I began a slow unraveling.
The withering was slowed by vacations and holidays.
I spent one of my summers visiting a friend in a small northeastern city. She was very busy and worked long hours so I was almost always on my own. I got interested in and did a lot of research and writing on post-mortem photography. I had a great routine that also included exercising, bike riding, cooking and exploring.
I spent another grad school summer in a teeny Western town in the middle of nowhere. I had an interesting weekend job and weekdays all to myself. I can still remember my happiness living in a small house -- again, with as much time as I wanted for reading, writing, exercise, etc. I swept the kitchen floor each morning and picked flowers for a small vase on the windowsill. I watched three baby skunks grow up; they bumbled across the street at dusk. Most of the time, the road in front of my house remained untraveled.
I was very lucky, and I think I knew it.
Summer is here again, and without a job for the first time in a long time, I have most of my time to myself. It's a little intimidating, but mostly exciting.
On one hand, I don't have the pressures I once had. On the other hand, I don't have the pressures I once had.
Don't get me wrong; in no way do I want to return to those days I bemoan so much. I think I am just in shock that I really can do exactly what I always wanted. It's a stunning opportunity; I just feel that I have to do better making the most of it.
