...and it looks like this.
I'm post seven weeks of summer institute, a benefit for Hoops4Hope, and a week of Humanitarian training at Georgetown University.
And this is what I look like. I'm in 'hide me,' 'protect me,' and 'oh-no-not-another-semester-long-entourage-of-chaotic-work' mode. I look ahead and I am frightened. The commitment to teaching, research, and CWP responsibilities scare me. Ah, but I must accomplish what I've set out to do.
There's something to be said for weekends when waking up and heading into the world by the whims and fancy of the human brain trump any other obligation. I love drinking my coffee slowly, going for a long run, taking time to go hiking, reading what I want to, and writing at the leisure of a given day. That becomes difficult when the forces upon you call you in other directions.
The creativity is stifling and the responsibilities are stifling.
It's much more fun to be free from the entrapment of the labor force but, alas, that is a fantasy of the working man. Everyone I know must get back to the grind, without the emancipatory space to live by the pleasures of an unemployed man.
And that stinks.
This has been a Monday post. At least I have a job.
I'm post seven weeks of summer institute, a benefit for Hoops4Hope, and a week of Humanitarian training at Georgetown University.
And this is what I look like. I'm in 'hide me,' 'protect me,' and 'oh-no-not-another-semester-long-entourage-of-chaotic-work' mode. I look ahead and I am frightened. The commitment to teaching, research, and CWP responsibilities scare me. Ah, but I must accomplish what I've set out to do.
There's something to be said for weekends when waking up and heading into the world by the whims and fancy of the human brain trump any other obligation. I love drinking my coffee slowly, going for a long run, taking time to go hiking, reading what I want to, and writing at the leisure of a given day. That becomes difficult when the forces upon you call you in other directions.
The creativity is stifling and the responsibilities are stifling.
It's much more fun to be free from the entrapment of the labor force but, alas, that is a fantasy of the working man. Everyone I know must get back to the grind, without the emancipatory space to live by the pleasures of an unemployed man.
And that stinks.
This has been a Monday post. At least I have a job.
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