My favorite thing about Graduate School lately is bearing witness to the other students in the program. there is one guy in a few of my classes (how old will I be before I call males "men" instead of "guys"?) who always musters a question for the professor. His face takes on an expression of intense pain, as if he were a woman in labor giving birth to brilliant insights. Each of his sentences, whether questions or statements, ends in rising intonation, and his hands constantly move in apologetic gestures. I am excited to be surrounded by living, breathing caricatures, and I am humbled in the knowledge that I, too, am a caricature in many ways.

I don't know, man, but I'm starting to think that 90% of human behavior is borne of profound insecurity. Fear and love are incompatible. That may be what this whole Christ thing is meant to change.

I'm beginning looking into three research questions for the start of my studies. Yeah, I'm insecure, but I'm happy anyway.

I have much more to say, but I don't have the time.

I had a realization today that changes my career goals.  

I only care about literature because of how it discusses and relates to human beings.  Really, I only love studying literature because I love people, not paper.

Because of this, I don't know if I should be an academic.  (I define "academic" as pursuing anything beyond a Masters.)  I'm learning more and more that there is incredible pressure for a constant output of conference presentations, book reviews, articles, and books, and I don't think I have the personality that would thrive in that sort of competitive environment.  I think I need more direct contact with people.

I... think I might teach high school.

I'm considering transferring to the MFA program for writing poetry. Maybe I would like to teach creative writing instead of literature? Crazy?

Graduate School. Wow. I am in love.

Among my concerns about starting school again were that (1) the others students would be pretentious (2) to the extent that I wouldn't want to make friends or spend any time with them. There is certainly a bit of pretension, but nothing like I had dreaded. Also, I'm already on my way to making Legitimate Friends in the department.

And I have a routine! I walk to and from school everyday--I'm only about five blocks away from my classes--and I know my neighborhood. I know the house to my right as I pass Peterson with the miniature windmill in the front year. I know the fountain in the adjacent yard made from a piece of marble sculpted into a misshapen head. I know the house up near Remington with the bird feeder, that if I have an apple core left from breakfast I should toss it in the yard as I'm walking and watch the squirrels carry it away. I love that.

I enjoy being a student, and I enjoy that my chief responsibility right now is to professors instead of employers.  "I'm going to spend the next two years learning" is an acceptable explanation for what I'm doing with myself.  I do enjoy that.  

There is always something difficult, though, which makes life trustworthy.  I told my students over and over again last semester that people never learn something when they're comfortable.  Am I making you uncomfortable? I would ask in class.  Good.  Well, I haven't been very comfortable living alone.

I come home from work and think, Wouldn't it be nice to be married?  We could talk about our days.  I shop for groceries and think, Wouldn't it be nice to be married?  I could buy a gallon of milk and it wouldn't spoil.  I turn off the light at night and think, Wouldn't it be nice to be married?  I could say goodnight to somebody.

But what I have instead is a chance to ask God to change loneliness into solitude.  I know that this was always meant to be my time.

See, even as I'm typing it, I only half believe it.