Before the gate closes
Wow my life. I’m going to put a post on food up next. I keep thinking of good posts, not having time to write them, and then when I go to write, my mind goes blank. Since this is the last day the Brand New Internet Tracking Software is not installed at my workplace I can post but after that I will have to be judicious about it. To celebrate I will just toss things up at random.
My company is occasionally a little Dilbertesque but, it is their company, so!
So random thoughts:
I never did post about my little formerly gifted child meltdown. Noah’s at a Montessori, right? And thus, he does the activities at his pace when he wants to do them (during the work periods). Since beginning in the fall he’s mostly wanted to do the blocks and math-like activities. Which means that by now he is adding fairly competently, at least for numbers that add up to less than ten (I’m not really sure where he is on place value, ’cause I only learn these things when he informs me that 2 plus 4 is 6. When I ask him about it he tells me he wants to do other things, like play in the sink :)) So he is a little ahead of the curve. So at playgroup, one of the mums was counting with her toddler and saying how cute it is even if he skips 5 and 7. This same child, who is fairly demonstrably bright, has a significant speech delay, so for him counting out loud is really huge. So when this mum says “1, 2, 3,” to her son to inspire him to count out loud, my son says “1 plus 2 is 3!” and then he demonstrates on his fingers “see, 1, 1, 2, 1, 2, 3.”
My first reaction was about like this (inside): NO DON’T ADD IN PUBLIC! AND DON’T SHOW OFF! AND NO DINNER FOR YOU! (okay, not really that last). What I actually said was: Oh let’s play with these diggers over here.
I clearly still have a lot of baggage to get over here. Asap. I have a meeting at the school tonight so maybe I can think about it then.
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My job is exciting and frustrating all the time right now, which is making my days fairly high-adrenaline. It will settle down, eventually, once the launch is over. It is kind of kicking us back into a slightly more multiple mode of doing things: I go to work, deal with the rush, and drive home (this last being important because we all know Lyr cannot drive) and then as soon as we hit home, I find myself really pushed back and Lyr sort of takes over (she feels strongly that a stressed parent is somewhat toxic) and we have this very calm homecoming, dinner prep, play, bedtime. I find myself losing track of that time and I don’t like feeling out of touch with Noah during the week. Something to work out.
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At work though I am slowly being much more myself; coming out of my Everywoman routine. This is helped by a) feeling more settled and b) having done the math on how much disposable income I’m actually taking home. Let’s just say that my long-term career goals are being served but in the short term? I’d make more on weekends at Starbucks. Maybe.
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I had a dream last night that I was wandering an art gallery and came across some half-finishing painting, and it was mine, and I wanted to finish it, but I couldn’t because I wasn’t Igen Weyrwoman. (I know, I know; my psyche seems doomed to forever circle that particular drain.)
This morning on the radio I heard the winning poem for the CBC Toronto spoken word event (or whatever it was; I’m that out of the loop) and it was really good – wonderful rhythm and imagery, although there was a preachy quality to it that I did not particularly care for. The winner was a first year U of T student and it got me thinking about that one choice to flee my parents and go to a small university across the country, one which was not really connected to a real arts community outside of itself. And how I could have gone to journalism school, but didn’t. And how the narrowness of my choices at that time, along with a host of issues inside and out, resulted in me choosing to throw my creativity into the never-ending black hole of the Internet.
And how I am still often replicating that choice over and over – both in a good, professional way, and also in a bad, dicking-around-not-writing-my-book kind of way.
And then I considered how if I hadn’t been doing that I wouldn’t have met really any of my current chosen family, ranging from Carl to internet friends (with a few exceptions, maybe). And although I don’t think I could never write again, if I had to choose never to be published and yet keep my family (the kind of choice one never actually has to make), I would keep my family.
But I still need to find a WEE bit of time to get back out there.
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