In celebration of a job well done

I really do feel that I give my full energy to my job throughout the year. I've the got potential to be a workaholic- I'm always turning over my to do list in the back of my mind, and I'm prone to not sleeping well when there's too much to do and just going into work to get it done. I feel better when the job is done, so I'd rather put in the extra time to do it well than to just go home at the end of the day.

So throughout most of the year, I have to make a conscious effort to remind myself that the work will still be there tomorrow.

And once in a while, I have a project that comes up against a deadline that demands 100% of what I can give. When that happens, I'm happiest at work. My wife hates when this happens, but I can't help it.

Reunion weekend at the college where I work is an event like that. Last night, walking home from the finally party of the night at the end of another 16 hour day, after a concert and ceremony to honor one of my favorite professors, after a breakfast to celebrate the hard work of the reunion committees, after a drama alumni show, I was exhausted.

But it was the ecstatic exhaustion of a job well done. There was a time when I worried that I'd only get this feeling from teaching. I was thrilled to discover that I could find it in other work.

And I'm thrilled whenever I get this feeling- knowing I've give everything I have, and the result was better than I hoped for. It's a feeling that says to me: "Life is good."

Local Food Day at the Dining Hall

Asparagus from here

One of the downsides of working at a college is that there is always more to do. I often feel rushed, and being a slight workaholic, I'll come early or stay late. One of the things I always try to do, though, is to keep the middle of my day clear so I can take my lunch hour.

One of the perks of working at a college is that there's a dining hall, so on days like this I can grab a quick bite to eat there.

My co-worker and I went to lunch together today; we sat on the open air patio with our meals and basked in the sunshine. That was wonderful.

What made it doubly wonderful was that today is (surprise!) local food day at Hodson Dining Hall. So as we savored this beautiful April day, we did it over burgers of local grass fed beef topped with locally produced pepper jack cheese and topped by locally grown portabello mushrooms, with sides of local asparagus and a delicious oyster stew (the oysters were from Virginia, which while not quite local, is close enough).

Best part: the meal cost under 5 bucks. Best 5 bucks I'll spend this year? Tummy says yes!

Happy Friday!

This dizzy life of mine...

Dover for dinner? Elkton and Philadelphia tomorrow? Sleep in Sunday or conquer the world?
And who knows what Monday will bring...
Well, I know what Monday will bring, but I'm not allowed to say yet.

Happy Friday!

Yeats, Perfection of the Life or of the Work, Happiness, and Play

Being already 4 days behind on my National Poetry Month poem-a-day Challenge (today is the 9th, I've got 4 poems finished and 2 half poems), a week behind on my book a week New Year's resolution, a month behind at work, and a lifetime behind on my become a famous writer life goal, I've been doing a lot of thinking about Yeats lately.

The Choice
The intellect of man is forced to choose
perfection of the life, or of the work,
And if it take the second must refuse
A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.
When all that story's finished, what's the news?
In luck or out the toil has left its mark:
That old perplexity an empty purse,
Or the day's vanity, the night's remorse. 

 I don't spend much time raging these days. Is it harder to write when my life is in a good place, or is that an excuse I make for myself when I don't have to spend all my time alone with my thoughts? Before Carol and I moved in together I was writing a blog post or two every day, reading a lot and writing plenty of poetry. Not that I mind, but she's a bit of a distraction.

There was a great article in the NYTimes Magazine yesterday about "silly" games (the kind of endless games like Tetris or Angry Birds that can't really be won, demand little skill or creativity, but that absorb a huge chunk of our mental energy). My takeaway was this:

In her book “Reality Is Broken,” Jane McGonigal argues that play is possibly the best, healthiest, most productive activity a human can undertake — a gateway to our ideal psychological state. Games aren’t an escape from reality, McGonigal contends, they are an optimal form of engaging it.

Now, I recognize that I have a limited amount of mental space each day. Every minute I spend playing Pandemic with my wife (or working on my blog post about how addicted we are to Pandemic, stay tuned for that!) is one less minute I have available for poetry. But what would I do differently? I'd change very little right now, just hoping that (like Randall and Dante in Clerks and Clerks II) the non-productive times in my life are really just building towards something.

The "Before You Turn 30" Bucket List

A friend of mine (who is much more clever than I am) shared a long bucket list on her blog recently.

While I'm not really interested in the copy and paste part of the game, I will tell you that I currently have 86 checked off my bucket list. But below the fold, I want to focus on the items that make the best story and/or made me think the most.

Staff Breakfast and the Nature of Wednesday

One of my favorite events of each month is our all staff meeting/ breakfast. I don't know why I enjoy it so much, beyond the fact that I enjoy a free breakfast as much as (or more than) the next guy.

I think all important work discussions should occur over pancakes, with a hard-boiled egg on the side if it can be arranged. As a bonus, this month I will remember to bring my travel mug so I can get my coffee fix for the day.

Wednesday is a tough day for me (Tuesday is rough, too, for the same reasons): Monday is a "get back to it" day, Thursday is downhill and usually includes the completion of one or more of my major projects for the week, and Friday is Friday. But Wednesday is a grind it out day, it's a put your head down and really march toward your goals day.

So staff breakfast is a great way to start Wednesday.

That's Why They Call It Work

I started the week able to see my desk.
I'd like to end the week able to see my desk.

Not yet, though. Not there yet.

Writing as Communal Art

One of the old truth that seems to have been passed down from every preceding generation of authors is that writing, like painting and composing, is a lonely art. A full life, Yeats reminds us, leads to nights filled with regret.

I spent most of this evening with my friend Adam playing Samurai Swords (a Risk-like board game that awaits a post I've been meaning to write for a couple weeks now). I could have sat hunched alone over my computer. I could have made a cup of tea and curled up with one of my books. I could have gone back to work and done any of the many projects calling me there.

I think Yeats is wrong. The modern writer (maybe the modern person?) is too plugged in to be as isolated as "The Choice" suggests a writer must be. When I look around, all I see are people writing. My blogging buddies have recipes for a steak-mushroom-cheese pie, ruminations on hand-written mail, and poetic horoscopes to get us through our week. Some of my friends are busy getting themselves published (yay Mel!).

Writing this way (on the internet, in a blog, often with no intention of editing and refining the little pieces of truth we stumble across as we work), this lacks the permanence of Yeats' work. But Yeats was an oddity in his craft and in his time: a successful poet (as such things are measured) who won a Nobel Prize for Literature at 58; who published some of his best work after that; we wrote wreaths of intricate work while also exploring Irish theater.

I have a half a dozen posts I really do mean to sit down and pound out as soon as I have the time, and I sometimes wonder why I keep writing. Mainly, I think it helps me think; writing helps me to know what I think and to find a way to articulate it. But I keep my pace because of all the writing I see around me, all the thoughts and words and ideas that my friends pour out. I'm grateful for them.

Hello Pittsburgh

Hello Pittsburgh!

My wandering feet (and work) have brought me to the Pennsylvania peninsula. The drive out was fun; flew through Baltimore at 5 a.m., stopped for breakfast at a diner a few miles off 375 just outside Pittsburgh, then got turned around 3 times and had to cross and re-cross the river to find my hotel.

Adventure awaits.