As someone who's never left the education system--securing a full-time job at a university post-graduation--September will always be the new year for me.
I had a bit of a case of the summer blahs. Although I seriously have nothing to complain about with a sweet apartment, a trip to Rome (hello!), an amazing man, friends, family, job, etc. etc. etc. I couldn't help but feel like something was missing. Like there was something more I needed to be doing.
Then one summer night, getting eaten by mosquitos under the yellow night time glare of the baseball diamond lights, I ran into my friend, VV.
"I'm starting a part-time job at the college here," she informs me, her face just slightly aglow. "Program Coordinator for Aboriginal Studies."
"That's awesome!" I respond. "If you're ever looking for anyone to teach..." (Though I try to be humble, sometimes you have to entertain a little shameless self-promotion.)
[Skipping over: Conversations with the Dean and my Director/hemming and hawing/prodding by R.J./tiny bursts of tentative excitement]
Now I'm teaching a college class.
I'm also finishing a contract with a national organization.
And working my full-time job at the university.
Earlier this summer I heard someone talking about this western culture of busyness:
Sally: "Hey, John! Long time no see. How've you been?"
John: "Oh, great! Just so busy."
Sally: "Tell me about it! I just came back from spinning class, now I have to head Montreal for a meeting..."
John: "Sorry Sally, gotta run!"
Is that not a conversation you've had before?
Rather than venting about how much I have to do, I'm working hard then taking some "me time": As I write, I'm Toronto-bound via rail for TIFF, interspersed with a mani-pedi at Sweetgrass Spa and hopefully some shopping for professor-ly clothes.
More importantly, I don't need to rattle on about how busy I am because I've found what was missing. I'm exactly where I need to be.
