Unpredictable -- I think that describes the general tenor of life at the moment.
D sent me an interesting e-mail this morning about some recent tech news. Midway Games, a company he interviewed with during his last job search, made some notable staff cuts this week. We had initially hoped, before the move to Seattle, that D would get a position at Midway since it's driving distance from Little U. on the Prairie. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that he was turned down. Who knows whether the job he applied for was one of those that got hit. Apparently, the company's stock shares are also taking a beating.
I had my workshop today, which was very helpful. Very tough, though, because of what was on the table. The essay I submitted was the first in which I think I really, really put myself out there naked -- not writing in the voice or character of the person I wanted my audience to see me as, but as the person I am underneath all the carefully wrought word-armor. I realized, in some earlier attempts to pull together this piece, that my problems writing it stemmed largely from trying not to reveal parts of myself that I'd rather keep under wraps. This is not to say that what I ultimately turned in was an exercise in self-flagellation, but I did let all the embarrassing, uncomfortable awkwardness of childhood appear. And that was hard.
What really caught me off guard, though, was the sadness I felt as the workshop got at the heart of what was in the essay -- the entanglement in certain family issues (I won't get more specific than this here) that still cause powerful grief. The sadness isn't even explicit in the essay, but people began plumbing the family dynamics driving the action in the work, and then as the explanations came out, all the awfulness of the aftermath from the experience I wrote about bubbled up like acid. I was tearing up liberally by the time we finished (also much cause for embarrassment), and I couldn't do a thing about it. I think the people who noticed probably figured it was because the subject matter was painful, not because I was upset by what people were saying about the piece -- it was all very constructive -- but ouch. I think I've had enough surprises for one day. I feel bad because I was too choked up to thank everyone at the end. Maybe an e-mail? But that seems so impersonal. Perhaps a quick thanks at the beginning of next Thursday's class. That'll be better.
So now I'm wiped out (more so than usual). But at least this weekend, I have no grading, which means I can do some more writing. I haven't had that luxury in what feels like months.
A happy note to end on: our irises are still doing well out in Seattle -- D sent me update photos. The plants will winter on our apartment balcony and should bloom just in time for my arrival at the end of the spring semester. We thought up names for them a few days ago (they're pets, so why not, right?). D has chosen Ralph and Tessa for his two, which will be deep red and tawny gold, respectively. For mine, I picked Carmen (indigo) and Lolita (pale pink). Yes, yes, think what you will! But if you could have seen what their predecessors looked like at the farm we visited, you'd understand how the names just fit.
Anyway, we're hoping all the plants will keep thriving as they have been -- I think one of D's bulbs may need its own pot already.
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2 comments:
How brave of you to expose yourself like that within a group of your peers. You should pat yourself on the back. Some people pay a fortune for therapy and it sounds like you had enough for a lifetime during that difficult experience
Thanks for the kind words :). It was a good thing in the end -- it means what's there in the writing is true to the experience. So easy to fool ourselves on paper, no?
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