a public memorial

Do you know Ruth Ozeki?  I have been reading a lot of her writing lately.  The first two were fiction (the kind of fiction that feels autobiographical), and now I am reading a set of, what would you call them?, memoirs I think.  But not exactly memoirs, more like a long poem or perhaps a blog  (the word is detestable) written as she looks into a mirror and contemplates her own reflection.  The exercise is a three hour reflection upon oneself.  The mirror is the tool.  And the pen (or keyboard perhaps?).  The idea is fascinating and revolting.  I started to read it last night but fell asleep about a third of the way in, not because the book is boring (it's quite interesting) but because I have jet lag caused by Christmas holidays.  I have been sleeping in until the luxurious hour of 8 o'clock for the past two weeks (!!! unheard of) and now returning to my regular schedule of waking at 5am has become a bit painful.  Staying awake beyond 9pm is challenging.

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Today was difficult.  This job comes with a different sort of schedule that is less predictable and largely out of my control.  I entered with the delusion that I would be setting my own schedule, which has turned out to be only slightly and ocassionally true.  The rest of the time my schedule is determined by emotionally-sodden teenagers.  For some reason today they were particularly needy, and the trend extended to the staff as well, and I accidentally found myself unsuccessfully attempting to mediate a dispute between colleagues (which felt wrong in a multitude of ways).  But it's so difficult to stop swimming once you find yourself immersed.

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