The Gods of Winter
The department vote was a complete failure; I wish I had waited until the next meeting. At least our chair is recommending a subcommittee meet to discuss rotation issues. It takes pressure off her and allows for discussion. Good. I did email and say I needed to speak to her; if I have no online next fall my schedule will need some adjusting and I'd like to be in on it.
But I am very sad. I feel like I've been through the worst of it (though if I end up driving five days a week, even the four I'm hoping for, there will be more to get through). I feel more serious than ever about tranferring campuses, but I won't know if the campus near me gets their English position for a few days at least, maybe a few weeks. And then it's like applying for a new job, almost. But maybe I've said this already.
S is undergoing her interview right now to get into the grad program in psych. I'm sure she's doing well, but she's very nervous.
And to top off my feelings of powerlessness, I got stuck in the snow this morning. It actually ended up being an adventure, but getting stuck, with a line of cars behind me, was not fun. It was on the uphill. The plows hadn't been through and we had about six wet inches. I drive a Subaru, but my tires need to be replaced; we replaced S's yesterday, and I was hoping to get by a couple months. It is such a helpless feeling sitting there spinning in the slush, and what makes it really poopy is all the people who drive by in SUV's, unstuck, who have tudes. Some old timer in a huge pickup with monster wheels drove by and actually told me out his window, 'it's just as bad up ahead, you'll never make it if you don't have chains.' This sounds nice, but it wasn't nice. He spoke as if I were a flatlander, caught out in my tercel, choking up traffic for everyone who lives here. MY CAR DOES HAVE AWD D*CKHEAD AND I LIVE HERE! Or so I wanted to say.
I saw a CRV in a snow bank (at least I didn't lose it that bad) and a Jeep Grand Cherokee stuck on the uphill the same way I was. The tow truck was there (even that guy said to me, 'how long have you lived up here?) pulling out the CRV, and they gave me a courtesy tow to the top of the hill. Well, they were going to come back and AAA me to my house, but while I was waiting for them show up and take me home the plow came through and I followed him. The street I live on still isn't plowed; I can't go to work until it is. But I managed to get above where I live and sloowwwwlllyyy drive/slide down to our driveway. I even got all the way in the driveway. I'm impressed.
If they don't plow soon, say by noon, I'm awol at work today. Kind of ironic. Even the English department defers to the Sierras.
Mountains do what mountains do. The wise man folds himself into their glory, sleeps when they sleep, wakes when they wake, inhales the breath the sky lays down on such favored ground.
Could I ever leave such a place?
Current mood: fear becoming serenity drifting towards a translucent ecstasy
Current music: mozart/die zauberflote/overture
Before Sierra Storm
cold air lifting up the hill tonight,
Orion’s white span,
fall drops thick around the house—
black oak curls and fades,
the dogwood flickers pink,
luminescent, like embers
fragile on the ash bed
in the morning.
songs shape so quickly here.
the throat relaxes.
two cord cedar bucked, split, stacked,
its tart scent dust and cold,
weathered and expansive—
the earth outside my window
waits unmoving for the rain,
the heavy wet to come, flail,
hammer into gullies, streams,
the broad and rivered sky.
But I am very sad. I feel like I've been through the worst of it (though if I end up driving five days a week, even the four I'm hoping for, there will be more to get through). I feel more serious than ever about tranferring campuses, but I won't know if the campus near me gets their English position for a few days at least, maybe a few weeks. And then it's like applying for a new job, almost. But maybe I've said this already.
S is undergoing her interview right now to get into the grad program in psych. I'm sure she's doing well, but she's very nervous.
And to top off my feelings of powerlessness, I got stuck in the snow this morning. It actually ended up being an adventure, but getting stuck, with a line of cars behind me, was not fun. It was on the uphill. The plows hadn't been through and we had about six wet inches. I drive a Subaru, but my tires need to be replaced; we replaced S's yesterday, and I was hoping to get by a couple months. It is such a helpless feeling sitting there spinning in the slush, and what makes it really poopy is all the people who drive by in SUV's, unstuck, who have tudes. Some old timer in a huge pickup with monster wheels drove by and actually told me out his window, 'it's just as bad up ahead, you'll never make it if you don't have chains.' This sounds nice, but it wasn't nice. He spoke as if I were a flatlander, caught out in my tercel, choking up traffic for everyone who lives here. MY CAR DOES HAVE AWD D*CKHEAD AND I LIVE HERE! Or so I wanted to say.
I saw a CRV in a snow bank (at least I didn't lose it that bad) and a Jeep Grand Cherokee stuck on the uphill the same way I was. The tow truck was there (even that guy said to me, 'how long have you lived up here?) pulling out the CRV, and they gave me a courtesy tow to the top of the hill. Well, they were going to come back and AAA me to my house, but while I was waiting for them show up and take me home the plow came through and I followed him. The street I live on still isn't plowed; I can't go to work until it is. But I managed to get above where I live and sloowwwwlllyyy drive/slide down to our driveway. I even got all the way in the driveway. I'm impressed.
If they don't plow soon, say by noon, I'm awol at work today. Kind of ironic. Even the English department defers to the Sierras.
Mountains do what mountains do. The wise man folds himself into their glory, sleeps when they sleep, wakes when they wake, inhales the breath the sky lays down on such favored ground.
Could I ever leave such a place?
Current mood: fear becoming serenity drifting towards a translucent ecstasy
Current music: mozart/die zauberflote/overture
Before Sierra Storm
cold air lifting up the hill tonight,
Orion’s white span,
fall drops thick around the house—
black oak curls and fades,
the dogwood flickers pink,
luminescent, like embers
fragile on the ash bed
in the morning.
songs shape so quickly here.
the throat relaxes.
two cord cedar bucked, split, stacked,
its tart scent dust and cold,
weathered and expansive—
the earth outside my window
waits unmoving for the rain,
the heavy wet to come, flail,
hammer into gullies, streams,
the broad and rivered sky.
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