Although the news hasn't really hit the airwaves yet, my life has just changed drastically. After much thought and flip-flopping, I officially resigned from my position at Stockton today. It won't be effective until mid-May because I don't desire to make anyone else's life more difficult in the middle of an academic semester, but now I have a deadline by which to make some important decisions.
Oh, how I've tossed and turned over this decision. My entire professional career has been built at that school, and I can't begin to describe the wealth of relationships I've built there. It's been home for so long, I'm not quite sure what life will be like without it. One thing's for sure - it's already scarier. I have no immediate job prospects, although I'm completely confident in my ability to continue making a living. I hope to write more, edit more, and most of all, teach more. I have found that teaching is where I am most comfortable - it allows me to connect with students in more significant ways than I currently do and it's such a great thing to know that you've got SOMETHING useful to offer the world. I don't expect to pursue a teaching certificate, but I will certainly look for as many adjunct instructor opportunities as I can throughout my immediate area and beyond. And, of course, I'll continue to plod through my pre-med studies at a snail's pace.
It's difficult to explain - I feel like I've been watching the long, slow death of my current profession for some time now and it's been brutal. My entire life has been built around my field - my self-esteem has, at least to some degree, hinged almost entirely on what I've been able to accomplish professionally and academically. It's scary to think of moving on finally.
But I'm also completely intrigued by what might be possible now. I suppose I owe a lot of my evolution as a person to Alex for being so supportive of every decision I've made in the time that we've been together. Not once has he told me NOT to do something; in fact, he's pushed me to really think about what I love to do and how to make it into a career. So that's what I'm doing, I suppose.
It's going to be weird, looking at everything I do this semester as the last time I'll do it at Stockton. It will be even stranger to see someone else in my chair, in my office, probably with the horrible fluorescent lights on instead of the cozy little cave-lighting I've created. It will be weird to go to the school only as a student and not as an employee with the benefit of an office, a little plot of land in academia to call my own.
I'm just being self-indulgent and reminiscent now :) I've got a great deal of heartburn (both literal and figurative), so I suppose I'll take some Pepto and go to bed. Good night, all.
t.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Families
You can't live with 'em...and you can't shoot 'em. Just kidding. Of COURSE you can shoot 'em - you just better have a real good escape route.
I jest. Over the last few months, lots of things have changed in the Fayter-Ronda household. Little things. Things that most people wouldn't even notice on the outside. After a bit more than a year in our humble abode, I can say that we've finally REALLY settled in. While it felt like home from the moment our realtor showed us the little rancher on a corner lot, it's really OURS now. (Well, not according to Chase, who still demands those pesky mortgage payments every month...but I digress.) After two Christmases, an anniversary, and about five major snow storms, it's safe to say we love it here.
In the three years since Alex and I have been married, dozens of people have asked us when the babies will start coming, and that question popped up only more frequently after we bought the house. People don't seem to accept the fact that we're very happy with what we've got - there's Sydney, of course, who we wish was here more often but who is always here in spirit with her purple bedroom and (ghastly) teeny-bopper posters. Sangha the Neurotic has taken his rightful place on all the windowsills, while Rosie the Nutcase continues to terrorize the very friendly neighbors with her incessant barking and peeing. It's a happy little home we've got here.
So what does THAT have to do with families?
Well, they change a lot. Recently, Alex reunited with his dad and stepmom after some years apart and Syd finally got to meet her "long-lost grandfather" (as she continues to call him). I think we are all quite happy to say that our families got a little larger. And we finally trekked up to see Alex's mom, sister, and nephew over the holidays, after more than a year of only emails (can you tell we're very irresponsible kids?) - I was especially pleased to meet the ten cats and two dogs (because, really, who DOESN'T need more animals in their extended families?).
It made me think about my own family and how good we've got it. I live close to the area where I grew up, having been more than satisfied to settle myself down here and build my career. I see my parents regularly (and I thoroughly enjoy the company of their two rambunctious new pups). Sydney knows my family pretty well by now and seems to have found her place in the brood easily - they love her, she loves them, it's all one big happy family.
It makes me feel bad for people who don't really HAVE families and even worse for people who DO have families but neglect them. I suppose sometimes those folks come around to finding out what's really good in life...but it seems more often than not that they don't. Maybe they prefer to suffer. Maybe they're the type of people who always want what they haven't got.
Or maybe (and this is just a theory), they're the kind of folks who get what they want and find that it isn't enough, that there's still something missing. It's hard not to get angry at people who tend to miss what's right under their noses. They take for granted the people who invite them into their lives and try to make them a part of something bigger - they think, perhaps, that the crackers will always be on the table and the vodka will always flow freely. But it seems to me that human families operate on the same Darwinian principle as every other thing that breathes - it's survival of the fittest. We sometimes forget that in an evolutionary sense, we have to give our families a REASON to let us be part of the pack. For most families, the reason is obvious - we depend on and trust each other to be part of the same support system. It makes sense, then, that once you remove yourself from the support system (intentionally or otherwise), you get squeezed out. No one needs you anymore, and you end up an isolated individual in a world where the collective functions most efficiently. And isn't that a sad story?
In a larger sense, it would appear that the family survives where the individual does not. I'd hate to be that one lone ranger.
More next time, folks...
t.
I jest. Over the last few months, lots of things have changed in the Fayter-Ronda household. Little things. Things that most people wouldn't even notice on the outside. After a bit more than a year in our humble abode, I can say that we've finally REALLY settled in. While it felt like home from the moment our realtor showed us the little rancher on a corner lot, it's really OURS now. (Well, not according to Chase, who still demands those pesky mortgage payments every month...but I digress.) After two Christmases, an anniversary, and about five major snow storms, it's safe to say we love it here.
In the three years since Alex and I have been married, dozens of people have asked us when the babies will start coming, and that question popped up only more frequently after we bought the house. People don't seem to accept the fact that we're very happy with what we've got - there's Sydney, of course, who we wish was here more often but who is always here in spirit with her purple bedroom and (ghastly) teeny-bopper posters. Sangha the Neurotic has taken his rightful place on all the windowsills, while Rosie the Nutcase continues to terrorize the very friendly neighbors with her incessant barking and peeing. It's a happy little home we've got here.
So what does THAT have to do with families?
Well, they change a lot. Recently, Alex reunited with his dad and stepmom after some years apart and Syd finally got to meet her "long-lost grandfather" (as she continues to call him). I think we are all quite happy to say that our families got a little larger. And we finally trekked up to see Alex's mom, sister, and nephew over the holidays, after more than a year of only emails (can you tell we're very irresponsible kids?) - I was especially pleased to meet the ten cats and two dogs (because, really, who DOESN'T need more animals in their extended families?).
It made me think about my own family and how good we've got it. I live close to the area where I grew up, having been more than satisfied to settle myself down here and build my career. I see my parents regularly (and I thoroughly enjoy the company of their two rambunctious new pups). Sydney knows my family pretty well by now and seems to have found her place in the brood easily - they love her, she loves them, it's all one big happy family.
It makes me feel bad for people who don't really HAVE families and even worse for people who DO have families but neglect them. I suppose sometimes those folks come around to finding out what's really good in life...but it seems more often than not that they don't. Maybe they prefer to suffer. Maybe they're the type of people who always want what they haven't got.
Or maybe (and this is just a theory), they're the kind of folks who get what they want and find that it isn't enough, that there's still something missing. It's hard not to get angry at people who tend to miss what's right under their noses. They take for granted the people who invite them into their lives and try to make them a part of something bigger - they think, perhaps, that the crackers will always be on the table and the vodka will always flow freely. But it seems to me that human families operate on the same Darwinian principle as every other thing that breathes - it's survival of the fittest. We sometimes forget that in an evolutionary sense, we have to give our families a REASON to let us be part of the pack. For most families, the reason is obvious - we depend on and trust each other to be part of the same support system. It makes sense, then, that once you remove yourself from the support system (intentionally or otherwise), you get squeezed out. No one needs you anymore, and you end up an isolated individual in a world where the collective functions most efficiently. And isn't that a sad story?
In a larger sense, it would appear that the family survives where the individual does not. I'd hate to be that one lone ranger.
More next time, folks...
t.
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