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Your call is being forwarded... posted by Badger at 8:57 AM Or maybe, more accurately, I'd fallen into myself, cocooning in an act of self-preservation and (eventually...) transformation. In some ways, I'm giddy enough from certain things happening in my life right now that I can be a hot-damn-badger-butterfly. Although, in retrospect, I'm probably just a very dusty moth, shimmering because the light has hit me right. So details. You always want the details... ABD4evah: Last year was just that: the last year of truth about enzyte funding from my department. I didn't make any substantial progression on the dissertation, and honestly my heart just wasn't into it. Teaching -- the thing that'd sustained my passion for higher ed -- had become excruciating. I resented my students, my professors, my department. So I quit. Will Work for Food: Unfortunately, I walked away from the academy and into a lousy job market. I've been unemployed (well, temping, sorta, but basically unemployed) for nine months. Will Work for Fun and Profit: Finally I landed a job, one that I started on Tuesday. A Great Job. And as I'm working in the educational technology field, my boss encouraged me to register for various social networking sites. So yeah, I joined the world o' Facebook, and even though it was digital, I realized that maybe I was ready to reunite with old friends. (Riding the bus to and from work every day is enough reunion with "the real" for now. -- I'd link a blog post, but damn, those archives...) Will Blog with Spit and Vinegar: At my job interview, I was asked if I blogged. I said I had, for a while. But you know, I think I'm ready to do so again. I think I might start a new one (I'll link it), because I truly have emerged from that cocoon a new person. But you were all good readers and good friends. So I thought I'd let you know that, "Hey! I'm back." posted by Badger at 10:54 PM I haven't felt much like documenting my world lately. I haven't felt like writing. I haven't felt like doing much... But I'm back from vacation -- really, I literally just walked in the door from a very good weekend in Canada. And I'm hoping I can get back to a rhythm of living... and writing. (Thanks to everyone who's emailed to ask if I'm ok. Somedays I swear I am.) posted by Badger at 3:32 PM This one asks for the first sentence from the first entry of each month of 2006. I think it does a good job highlighting the major events in my life from the year: the grief, the eviction and move to new house, the birth of my nephew, the lack of work on my dissertation, and my struggle to soldier on... January: I can't say I subscribe to the belief that as you spend New Year's Day, so follows the rest of the new year. February: I just finished the bottle of wine. March: My therapist, Dr. Metaphor, says grief is the ocean, pounding me with its waves. April: Add to my list of accomplishments today, a dog bath for Hazel, who has finally become brave enough to wander off the back porch and explore the backyard a little. May: Spam spam spam spam spam. June: My brother called today and asked if the reason I haven’t been updating my blog frequently is that I’ve been channeling my productive writing energies into the dissertation. July: My brother and sister-in-law had a baby boy this afternoon! August: Badger boy and I are back from our whirlwind trip through Maine and Ontario (the Georgian Bay to be precise). September: You can assess how well -- or how poorly -- I am coping by the absence on this blog of any substantial rants against my landlords. October: Edited: Too bad. Ya missed it November: I knew in advance that this week would be hellish, what with various appointments, examinations, obligations. December: Yeah, I'm still here. posted by Badger at 6:53 AM posted by Badger at 8:02 AM posted by Badger at 6:40 AM casting of my hand posted by Badger at 1:47 PM posted by Badger at 8:19 AM The first bus I take was running about fifteen minutes late and was crowded -- full of coughing, sneezing, sniffling passengers. (Just when I’m over my cold, of course.) Despite having my headphones on, I could clearly hear the conversation of the women seated behind me. One of them was explaining how she had become so tired of her rebellious teenage daughter that she’d signed her up for the military. “That’ll teach her not to listen to me,” she proudly told her friend. The second leg of my trip was worse. The bus was even more crowded, even more smelly. When I got on the bus, I moved to the
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