This week, I have been back on the job--on my job, here, in this place, which is not like any other academic place that I know about. I realized this evening that I've been thinking of my work as though it's taking place in some abstract academic universe, and so I've been worrying over things that I don't need to worry about. Some of that is going away as I remember where I am and get reabsorbed in how my life here goes. Great fermentation is happening as the semester's beginning approaches.
Tonight found me standing on my brand spanking new red Kik-Step stool, searching through the books on my theory shelf, finding what I've got on gender. My own spaces are becoming the libraries I have always loved: I climb on stools, I thumb through books, I make piles and move them from table to table, from building to building.
I have given up on the possibility of a celebratory post keyed to a number. For now, it has to be enough that I'm making it here at all. I'm keeping the lifeline spooling. But for now, I'm needed elsewhere; for now, that is, I need myself elsewhere most of the time.
In twenty-four hours, it will be the night before classes.