Yesterday we had a hefty afternoon storm, and lo and behold, we lost power. I was in the midst of stewing a chicken for a batch of Indonesian fried rice, so after pulling the chicken from the carcass and putting the chopped onions into a little plastic baggie, I waited in the almost-dark for the darker. I called 1-800-OUTAGE to report the outage and learned that it would be 10:30-11:00pm before the power was restored.
So Simon and I went out for dinner at Pho Tau Bay, and then to see Waitress, which I would have found wholly charming were I not suffering from over-education. I explained to Simon that I hated how the waitress didn't leave her husband until she had a sure thing in her lover, and she didn't leave her lover until she'd been given a big ol' heap o' cash by another man who'd died. I'm pretty sure that I wasn't supposed to "go there," and that instead I was to see it as an uplifting movie about women supporting women (or something?), but once again my cynical noggin' ruined it for me.
A wonderful respite from thinking was the week that Simon and I spent in Fort Morgan, AL. (We returned two days ago.) We were with friends and colleagues, including two of our very bestest friends who are moving away come August. On our last night at the beach, I said, jokingly, "Let's all get really drunk and sad!", which I then did. Okay, so it is impossible for me to get away from my head-ness, altogether... something I commented on to Simon while we were walking along a beautiful path through the National Wildlife Reserve that ended at an untouched beach and with an encounter with a blue heron. "I'm already missing this," I said. My pre-emptive nostalgia makes the present harder.
But I am feeling really, really sad about losing yet another (and another) New Orleans friend. Even though their leaving is more about graduate school than it is New Orleans-fatigue, I still feel as though they are abandoning ship, and I hate that. Stop abandoning the ship, I say! Of course, I am already missing them, too.
So now that we are back in New Orleans, I have officially fallen into my summer funk. I really hate summers because of the unstructured time. And compounding my feelings of funk-dom is the fact that a) we have sooo much to do in the house (but really it's mine to do, as it involves sorting through and getting rid of 8 years of my stuff), and b) I also have so much to do, professionally (I'm up for my third-year review next year at the University, and I need, need, need, to make myself look like a pro with a folder and all, and I need, need, need, to publish), and c) my dear husband has No Problem with productivity. None. He gets up and writes. Then he cleans. Then he reads. Then he works out. Then he writes and reads. And throughout all of this productivity, he experiences no anxiety, feels no inferiority, has no self-doubt. This makes me feel even crappier about my procrastination and pack-ratting and, and, and...
The bright spot for me is work. I have started my summer online teaching gig, and I really love getting to send encouraging emails and playing coach to a group of web-students. The only problem is this: I may need to make this blog private, as my web-savvy students could Google my ass and then witness me writing shoddy blogs, and, well, "ass." What do you think? Make blog private or no?
Speaking of shoddy entries, I apologize for my long absence, but I must say that it's just gonna be that way until I get outta this funk. And I don't know if that is going to happen, so...
You know, I'd really feel better if I could spend the whole summer at the beach. I love digging in the sand, walking along the water, finding shells and critters, watching no TV, and sleeping hard from real physical exhaustion. The thing about the summer in New Orleans is that you are absolutely stuck indoors. You are entirely dependent on AC. So you are stuck inside, and in my case, stuck with yer damn head-ness.