I started teaching this semester. I'm still not anyone’s payroll. I spent the first week being a tech support agent for my students. Thank god for me.
It's going to be a difficult month. A lot of things coincide. August 31 would have been my 8th wedding anniversary. I feel lucky to be here given the circumstances. That doesn't make things any easier or necessarily any luckier, it's more for context when, if i get to look back on this as a moment of change. I think my students will enjoy their time with me. Hopefully I can give them something worthwhile to move through these times.
I'm in the midst of so many things. I'm doing what I want to be doing in my career. There is a resource gap i am trying to fill and so far it seems things are tight enough to flex and support where its needed. I have to follow up on a lot of things. I don't know when or where I'll be able to hand off that responsibility and not have my world turn to shit. I don't entirely trust these people, like I said in my last post. They were all working in good faith. If i were a beggar it might be more natural, a beggar in the sense that id love bending my knees and testifying to what it all means. For me it's nothing to talk about. I don't know what that makes me. Maybe someone will tell me and i can say no. Or yes. I'm trying hard not to let sadness in my heart. Maybe its come out as anger or humor more recently. I don’t think I'm much of either right now. I’m determined and tired. So much is wrong with the world. I reflect on my time as an anarchist. Politically we are not individuals. Individuality is that fascism we are seeing politically. Politics are inherently collective. No man is an island. So I think about my being an anarchist in the collective sense. The responsibility towards a decentralized power across collective sovereignty in all our existence.
I think back to a thought I had that if I had to do it again I would have listened to everyone I've loved. Not i have to do it myself. That little voice is the loudest one. I know better. Etcetera. How are we going to make it.
Later this month I'll read two takes of my statement of purpose. I've got to get a little something off of my plate with lines stacking up into walls. Talk about breakthroughs. Lets see how strong I am. How tender I've become.
The Scepter Raised High