I raced in the door after my 1.5+ hour commute home. I called David when I got off the subway.
Hey babe, can you help me? Can you get the lap top set up on the kitchen counter and reheat some food? I think there’s still leftover pasta in the fridge. My class starts at 7, and it is 7.
I’m not actually paying attention to the asynchronous course content like I want to because my brain is tired and my body is angry. Why can’t I better protect the time I had carved out for fitness?
I, and all of my classmates, couldn’t access the synchronous session tonight. My levels of stress were too high to stay committed to the troubleshooting process.
I rage-posted to Facebook.
This is a very small nighttime anecdote, not worthy of my long-building frustration. Has it peaked? Will I forget these feelings when I meet graduation again?
I count my blessings for David’s support, encouragement and little things. In the space of 15 minutes, he let me cry, yell and cuddle. That’s some grade-A husband healing.
Other weird, defining moments of my day:
- Starting the day with a disagreement about car responsibility and parking
- Not being able to find parking, driving to Brooklyn
- Meeting the amazing J. Chrastka for the first time
- Free bagels and cream cheese
- Meeting Johannes, NYPL marketing superhero
- Working on a campaign for a public library in New Jersey (specifically a revamp of their YES committee’s Facebook presence)
- Wearing sun glasses on the subway
- David and I imagining life together with a baby
- Good friend, Allison, and new sister-in-law, Caroline, reaching out to lend their support about my higher education rage
We preach the goodness of higher ed without a particularly critical eye toward what students are asked to spend (or assume in debt), or a careful examination of what is actually gained.