I generally avoid mirrors. Don't like looking at my physical self, and oddly, what I see isn't what others see. Example: I took a selfie once, and everybody flinches when they see it. Now it's not a great picture - but it IS what I see when I look in the mirror. My friends are horrified at the picture, because it's not how they see my face. Odd but true. Anyway, that's not the point here.
My title here refers to my examination of my inner self since I moved. First, getting away from Unnamed University That Burned Me (hereafter, Hell Univ) lifted a psychological load that I was aware I was carrying, but hadn't realized how awful that load was. Second, retiring from Hell makes me re-examine my post-professional identity, and what elements will be within that and what I want to add. Third, my new place is... lovely. And while I love singing its praises (saw an eagle from my kitchen window this morning!), I also hesitate to do so. Particularly to my friends. So number three is inhibiting my communications with my dear friends.
My friends still in HellTown are still in HellTown, and some still work at Hell U. And they really don't like it much, but have no ability to get out. So when I crow about how lovely my new life is, I feel like I'm rubbing it in, making their situation harder to bear. They know I'm very happy, but I'm sure they are already tired of hearing it. And they are all gearing up for the new term, facing the next round of cuts, ill-will and nastiness. Others, not in HellTown, have continued their lives as they do, but again, I'm sure they are tired of me gloating as well.
So what do I do? Recount the trivial problems of my rather charmed present life? Of course I have problems, but the joys far outnumber them. And - crap, there's a damned beach not five minutes from my house! How can I possibly bitch about prices or the mountain of boxes that damn near fill my garage or having to wait for the painter - when these are the problems of a Lady of Leisure? Seriously!
One of the things I really want to do is get myself on a schedule of sorts. Where I put aside time every day - significant time - to write and research. The content/subject and process will then be something I can share with my friends, and it'll get me doing what I want to do. Since 90% of my friends are academics and scholars, this will help with the problem noted above.
I also want to get involved in the community, via the Master Gardeners and dog clubs. And volunteer at the wildlife refuge. Those things I need to wait until I've got the stuff done that requires a schedule that can worked around contractors etc.. Because once the painter (for example) has time for my project, he'll be here a week and I'll either have to get the dogs out all day during that week OR be here to help get the job done. Either way, I'm not going to be able to go to events, meetings, classes, etc..
And then there's the glass. I really miss doing that, and can't even unpack that until... after the painter! Then I can order the IKEA bookcases and storage units and have a place to put the stuff I unpack! Same deal on the research - can't get to my books without unpacking them, and no place to put them until I get some bookcases....
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Moved! In!
I am now officially in my new house in my new home town. Love it here. It's really friendly, the weather is delightful, my house is lovely and I am away from that hellhole that was Unnamed University. Who just fired 9 faculty - tenured, tenure-track, visiting, you name it. The best was that they offered severance packages to four staff members, hoping one or two would take it. All four took it! Leaving only one admin support working - who then apparently pissed off the acting dean, and got her ass fired. Nothing subdued about my delight in that, as that particular person had lorded her status over everybody, disregarded instructions and advice and tried to boss around her boss. Bad idea, but it was delightful knowing that she'd been ousted.
It's even more delightful to be 2000 miles away. Everything up here is very different from Unnamed City. It's a more liberal place (it wouldn't take much, as UC was right-wing). Completely different political, social, cultural vibe. Weather is radically different, as New Home Town is a sunny place surrounded by a rather rainy environment. I'm in what's called the Olympic Rain shadow - so it might be miserable and dreary in Seattle, but delightful up here. I'm five minutes from a quiet bay off the Strait of San Juan de Fuca, and maybe 10 from the straits. I grew up in Southern California, and remember my parents talking about how they'd come this close to buying a lot in La Jolla, which was one of my favorite places in the world. That was before it got all richie-rich and chic - when it was a quiet artist colony. Their deal had been about 1946-47 - they'd laugh ruefully, wishing they'd bought it so they could live near the sea. I knew, deep in my heart and soul, that living near the ocean was far out of my reach, but my ideal.
When I found this place last year, it was simply too good to be true. Close to the ocean? Affordable? Surely not. Quirky, cool and... decent weather? Impossible. And now.... now I live here. The town is hoping the place will grow by 50% in the next decade - I don't even want to tell you where it is, because I don't want the character of the place to change. I don't want those x people to come here, change things. Even though I am one of those they're working so hard to attract. Contradictory, I know, but I don't want to be priced out of this place. Or have my friends discover they can't afford to come here for retirement. (Yes, some are already planning on joining me!)
Unpacking is the biggest part of my day; I had about 250 boxes/pieces come off the moving van. I've emptied at least 10 boxes per day, and now have two rooms livable! Very proud of that; there's no way i can get it all done before Christmas, so I'm not gonna hurt myself doing it. I can't unpack the books (about 60 boxes, stacked in the garage) until I have bookcases, and I can't find any I like. And I can't think about buying those until I have a place to put them, which means all the painting has to be done before I buy/build the bookcases and then unload. And I can't paint until I get the non-book boxes out of the spaces that need painting! Et voila! My plan: unpack enough and get used to the space, pick the colors, paint, put it all back in place - then get the bookcases etc.. No time line. I don't have to schedule things yet. That will come. At the moment, I'm living each moment and stopping when I get tired or start hurting.
It's a whole new way of living: listening to what I want to do and doing it. Wow.
It's even more delightful to be 2000 miles away. Everything up here is very different from Unnamed City. It's a more liberal place (it wouldn't take much, as UC was right-wing). Completely different political, social, cultural vibe. Weather is radically different, as New Home Town is a sunny place surrounded by a rather rainy environment. I'm in what's called the Olympic Rain shadow - so it might be miserable and dreary in Seattle, but delightful up here. I'm five minutes from a quiet bay off the Strait of San Juan de Fuca, and maybe 10 from the straits. I grew up in Southern California, and remember my parents talking about how they'd come this close to buying a lot in La Jolla, which was one of my favorite places in the world. That was before it got all richie-rich and chic - when it was a quiet artist colony. Their deal had been about 1946-47 - they'd laugh ruefully, wishing they'd bought it so they could live near the sea. I knew, deep in my heart and soul, that living near the ocean was far out of my reach, but my ideal.
When I found this place last year, it was simply too good to be true. Close to the ocean? Affordable? Surely not. Quirky, cool and... decent weather? Impossible. And now.... now I live here. The town is hoping the place will grow by 50% in the next decade - I don't even want to tell you where it is, because I don't want the character of the place to change. I don't want those x people to come here, change things. Even though I am one of those they're working so hard to attract. Contradictory, I know, but I don't want to be priced out of this place. Or have my friends discover they can't afford to come here for retirement. (Yes, some are already planning on joining me!)
Unpacking is the biggest part of my day; I had about 250 boxes/pieces come off the moving van. I've emptied at least 10 boxes per day, and now have two rooms livable! Very proud of that; there's no way i can get it all done before Christmas, so I'm not gonna hurt myself doing it. I can't unpack the books (about 60 boxes, stacked in the garage) until I have bookcases, and I can't find any I like. And I can't think about buying those until I have a place to put them, which means all the painting has to be done before I buy/build the bookcases and then unload. And I can't paint until I get the non-book boxes out of the spaces that need painting! Et voila! My plan: unpack enough and get used to the space, pick the colors, paint, put it all back in place - then get the bookcases etc.. No time line. I don't have to schedule things yet. That will come. At the moment, I'm living each moment and stopping when I get tired or start hurting.
It's a whole new way of living: listening to what I want to do and doing it. Wow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)