"[My relationships were] like I was in these movies where the script was only half-written. When I’d get to the end of this half-script, the other actors wanted me to ad lib. But I had never gotten the hang of that. That’s why these movies were always box-office failures. Six of them in the past twenty years. I always blew the lines." ~ from my horrible first novel "Learn How To Pretend." (unpublished)(obviously)

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

For the Duration

I guess I'll be here a while. Till December anyway. I just picked up five courses to teach at the University of New Mexico for the Fall term. With La Esposa not working at present, we'll need the money. If we sell the house between now and December, she'll head on up with the kids and get us set in the new house. (Yeah, the one that has not presented itself yet.)

It's scary, but exciting, too. I've never done anything like this. But, then, there are a lot of things I'd never done in my life and, when I finally did, they mostly turned out OK.

And it all makes me wonder why. Why did I live my life in the shadow? Where there great things I could have accomplished in my life if I'd just had the motivation earlier on? Or did I need all the life experiences I've had?

Sometimes, when I look at what I'm finding interesting now days, I can see that those things didn't exist when I was younger. Or the threat to society wasn't great enough. Or the threat to me wasn't great enough. Mostly, I think, the latter. Somewhere along the way, I came to believe that I couldn't do great things. More so, I was led to believe that in order to be successful, I had to be a certain way, and I was not good enough to be that way. I was too much of a failure to even try to be a failure at succeeding.... Ummm....?

What I'm seeing.... what I'm sensing is that A.) That model and definition of success that was held up before was a sham. And B.) that even if I'd somehow attained it, I'd not be able to hold it because that is not who I am. Not that I'm a failure. Far from it, I'm a success at being myself. And who/what I am did not follow the rest of the herd, lock-step, nose-to-ass, wearing a club-tie noose as I was led to slaughter.

I feel I've escaped something. Some cruel twist of fate that many other didn't. I've heard the squeals of terror from those far far ahead of me in the slaughterhouse line. I've heard the shotgun blast that puts them down one-by-one. I've turned and walked away.

I like teaching college level. I like the environment. I like the way I can dress. I like the creativity I can bring to the room. If I get to do that here in Albuquerque while I'm waiting to move, that's not so much of a punishment.

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