Homebody

I go through various cycles of emotion lately, but listlessly bored seems to be the demon I battle most often. When the only human socialization I've gotten for the past two months has been my kitty (and yes, kitty isn't human, but for the sake of my sanity I've had to include her because we spend all day hanging out together and taking naps and being chill) and my husband, tired and bedraggled after long office hours, I begin to get worn out by the sheer pressure of the loneliness beating down on me. It's true that I have stuff to do. Like it or not, I've been a housewife lately, and that means the endless dishes and laundry and cooking are delegated almost entirely to me. I try not to complain about it because, you know, I don't have a job so I get to do whatever I want all day, and Dominic has to go to work and suffer long hours of tediousness and public math. Still, the housework can be tedious too, and I have a difficult time creating a schedule for myself when there isn't one laid out for me. If I know I can't get fired or get bad grades, I'm like, "Heck yeah! Pajamas until 3:00 in the afternoon!" But, after a year of what I now consider to be chronic unemployment, pajamas until 3:00 makes me more depressed than joyous, and did I mention the loneliness? It's lonely.

When we first moved to Texas I played around with the idea of maybe getting a job. I half-heartedly composed a resume and went to a job fair, but the choices there freaked me out, and plus I was scared of being in a big, new city, and I was scared of driving around in it, and I was scared of getting lost, and I was scared of being without Dominic, and I was scared, scared, scared. I decided to try my hand at substitute teaching, and well, we know how that turned out. Shortly thereafter I applied and was accepted to a couple of graduate classes at a local school, and that worked well for me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was mostly treading water, biding my time, waiting until something more permanent could come along. Still, I'm glad I took those classes because now I know I can handle graduate school. When I go back for good I know I'll be able to finish it.

For a long time I've felt very uneasy about this past year, this gift of extra time that stretches out endlessly, my fortune at not having to get a job because we're comfortable enough as it is. As silly as it may seem, I don't want people to think that I'm lazy and good for nothing because I don't work, because I chose to stay home instead. I've always been a hard-working person. I've held various paying jobs since I was 13(!) and of course I was always in school until just a year ago, usually as an honor student. I suppose I've really come to terms with myself as of late, however, and I know that the decisions I made weren't made out of laziness or fear (or at least those weren't the states of being motivating me most). Truthfully, I didn't get a job because both Dominic and I consider this early stage of our marriage to be more important than a few extra thousand dollars. I stay home so that when Dominic has his brief respites from work we can be together. Because he never has set hours (there have been weeks at a time when he's come home from work at noon or mid-afternoon, weeks more when he works from six in the morning until eight at night) I like to always be available. Plus, it's been undeniably nice to have this break, to reevaluate and rethink my career track. I wasn't up to the challenge two years ago when all my friends were applying to graduate school. I was just too confused about what I wanted, but now I feel like I know more clearly what should be my next step, and that will be readmission to a graduate program in fall 2006.

That's still some time away, and I'm having difficulty, as the summer gets longer, hotter, and feeling more worn, visualizing the steps I'll have to go through to make it happen. But it will happen. I know because I've done it before. I did it here. But first, there will be more waiting. Waiting while Dominic is away at survival school. Waiting to get orders and dates for our relocation to Nebraska. And, lastly, the insignificant waiting I do everyday as I try to navigate through the things that must be done (dishes) and the things that need to be done (more writing to build up my portfolio, more research into local schools) and this is perhaps the worst waiting of all. It's the waiting that leaves me feeling lonely and helpless and like even though I have all the time in the world I am never getting enough done.

But, also I can read whatever books I want, and because we have a DVR I can watch all kinds of nuggets of goodness like Entourage, Gilmore Girls, Lost, Over There, and Grey's Anatomy without worrying how I'm going to fit in all that TV. So I guess it's a Catch-22. All the TV and books I can digest vs. being lonely and picking up my cat too much and calling her my "kitty baby." And also dressing her up like an Indian, I mean Native American. I know, my life is so hard.

Anyway, I know I'll soon be thankful for this time in my life when later things are so hectic I'll be pulling my hair out with frustration. And I guess that's how I make myself believe that this slow period is okay. Because sooner or later the poop is going to hit the big ass fan. But I'll be prepared, I hope.