This morning S. resigned the executive directorship she currently holds with the Kentucky  non-profit  that advocates for the homeless in our state–effective January 23rd–if the pending position in global disaster response needs her that soon.  This stresses me considerably.  It makes me anxious for her to submit a resignation without the other job being firmly secured.  It puts us in a vulnerable position financially, and I dislike vulnerability of almost any kind, but economic vulnerability especially.  But she insists this timing is necessary.  I just pray that the new job becomes available soon and that S’s salary and housing stipulations are acceptable to the employing organization. 

I find all of this stressful.  And I’m not looking forward to the upcoming semester.  As a matter of fact, I don’t feel like teaching at all.  I want us to hurry and move on with our lives.  I don’t want to be stuck back here in Kentucky until May, while S. gets to go abroad in search of more exciting and meaningful work.  My attitude may be bad, but I can’t help it.

Also this morning, I purchased my university parking pass for the semester and stopped by my office to turn in hard copies of my final grades from the fall.   With that accomplished I feel more prepared to take down and put away our Christmas decorations, neither of which I really want to do.  I don’t know what it is I actually want.  I don’t know why I feel so unmotivated and uninspired.

I DO know that I enjoy this blog.  It makes me want to write a memoir.  And though I dare not go into any details of my story prematurely, let it suffice to say I DO have a remarkably dramatic tale to tell–the particulars of which most people currently in my life might find difficult to believe, but all of which is easily substantiated, documented, etc.  I wish I could find a publisher willing to offer me a book contract and an advance, so I could put aside teaching for while and focus on the telling of my tale.  Probably I should pursue such a contract, but I have no idea where to begin or even whom to ask for advice.

I guess I’m realizing writing this that I do feel ready to tell the story, as difficult and painful as that may prove.  I think that blogging every day now for almost a week, I realize that I DO have the discipline to sit down and write every day, whether I feel like it or not, whether I even feel like I have anything much to say on a given day.  The details come with the doing of the deed–the act of writing almost accomplishes itself in some ways, if you sit down at a computer every morning and make yourself hammer out the words.

By the way, I still am being quite faithful to the demands of my diet and exercise regimen.  I don’t like not eating what I want.  It’s hell in some regards.  But, God, I have to do this.  I keep telling myself that next January will come, and when it does I can be 50 pounds thinner and happier with my body or the same size I am now or bigger and more miserable than ever.  I choose the former.  I don’t believe I really have any other option.  The other remains a non-option.  I simply can not remain the same.

It’s the same thing with the book and blog.  I must continue pounding away at these keys, as the literal pounds are dieted and exercised away.  I will exchange one kind of poundage for another and be the better for it.