Spending The Morning

I worry how I spend my time, though the metaphor "spend" bugs me because thinking of life as a transaction is gross. A life lived as a series of transactions is only as interesting as the conveyor belt at the Wegmans register and leads to unhappiness on the order of the terrible orange maggot in the White House. I prefer to wonder how I am living and this morning I have put hours into reading and thinking about a long essay. 

The essay was Tim Urban's "How To Pick A Career" from the site Wait But Why, a great site of nothing but longreads. I printed the essay at school yesterday on the backs of previously used copy paper because I don't enjoy reading on a screen. 15,000 words took ninety pages. It's not Urban's longest or shortest piece and it has been about a year since he last published. You don't follow Wait But Why so much as wait for it. The wait is often worth it. 

I have a long-running career. I've been a school teacher for twenty-three years. I've taught college too and a bit of middle school as well as some summer programs, summer school, an SAT prep course (ugh), and professional development seminars for teachers through the National Writing Project. I've thought about ditching that career for writing, but I'm not sure I can make money at that and (here's the kicker) I don't know that I want to make a living doing it. I love to write and send those words out into the world. It's my favorite work. I'm not sure I would love turning that work into my job, my career. For now, I'll keep writing and keep the teaching career. 

Which makes it odd that I would spend most of my morning reading 15,000 words and thinking about how to pick a career.

Part of the reason is that I like Tim Urban's writing. I'll follow him most places he goes. That's especially true in the case of thinking about how to live. 

I think a lot about the directions in which I'm moving, the ways in which I'm choosing to live. I worry I'll end in regret when I'm old. Regret come from a place of accepting what's handed out instead of actively choosing. Reading things like this helps me stay focused on making my own choices. 

My two girls are coming of age and are making choices. I want to give them good advice, not about what to choose but about how to think and choose. I want to feel okay about their processes rather than anxious. My anxiety won't do us any good. Maybe some people do this sort of thing naturally, but if I leave it to chance, leave it unconsidered, I'll bung it all up. 

I've also just come through some turbulence. I worked toward a life change only to have the opportunity evaporate. I was shocked and devastated, but have begun to think I may be on a more interesting path now. 

A friend says he didn't know what he wanted to be when he grew up until his forties. He doesn't truly believe in end points or goal posts outside of sports. We keep going, keep becoming. We don't finish growing up. I've been growing up for nearly fifty years and I'm not quitting. I read articles such as this because I'm playing a game I don't ever want to end. 

Back in the economic terminology, I wonder was reading and thinking about this worth most of my morning? It didn't earn me a damn thing in the immediate, but now, an hour later, I've got this piece of writing. I'll post it where, again, it will earn nothing for my wallet. Was reading the essay worth most of my morning? Only if there are bigger things than economics, only if there are other kinds of wealth. 

A student asked me about college, if it was "like a great party time." I said that, going back after failing out, I wasn't much for parties but college remains the one concentrated time in my life to which I most like to return. He thought I meant that I'd go back if I could, but I meant I return to the college experience often in the form of deep-dives into ideas. I did it early this month reading Alan Jacobs' book How To Think when I kept reading all the articles he referenced in there and ordered three more books from the library because of it. I did it again this morning with Tim Urban's essay, writing notes, underlining passages, and now writing my own piece because of it. I like to study, to take on new ideas, incorporate them into my thinking, and see what happens. I'm curious how I might change. Reading "How To Pick A Career" didn't lead me directly into a new career or confirm my current career beyond a shadow of a doubt. It merely pushed me further into living, but that's good enough work for any morning. 

I'm richer for it. 

Go Buy Some Art

The new Laura Veirs album arrived at our door today. I have it on the turntable now and would be listening more carefully, but I'm stuck on this thought that it's a good thing to buy art. You should go buy some. 

Laura Veirs is good. She's not everyone's cup of tea, but Neko Case and Sufjan Stevens both think she's worth playing alongside. Don't even start to argue with Neko or Sufjan. I love her stuff and know she's not a multi-millionaire. Streaming the whole album nets her about two cents and that's too little to pay for art. I bought the album because I love listening to music on the turntable and because I want to support artists whose work I love. It's the same reason I bought Austin Kleon's books and the new album by The Bad Plus. I want these people to keep making art I enjoy. Paying them is worthwhile. 

It doesn't cost much. I spend a lot of money on music because I'm obsessed, but I still probably spend more on bourbon. And it's not as though I buy everything I listen to. I have a streaming service and will play the Veirs album there so she makes a bit more money, but when artists I like release new stuff, I buy the vinyl and try to see their shows. 

There's probably more to say about this, but I really want to follow along as she sings side two. This album is good. Go buy some music, a book, or other art and show artists some love. Do it now.

New And Selected

Having finished a book of George Bilgere’s poems and having no more of him to read, I picked up Billy Collins’s New and Selected Poetry wishing publishers wouldn’t keep reselling the old just to put out a dozen new. I finished The Trouble with Poetry Section and went to replace my bookmark. A piece of folded paper on which my youngest daughter had written in marker: dear dad. I am really sorry For what I said I was just angry and I am really really really really really really really sorry. She drew a sad girl in her bed looking straight at me. The note is signed with Love, the O a sad face. It’s a poem I’ve read before. I may ask her to write another volume and place it in here. New and selected poetry from one of my favorite authors.

Ten Miles, Wegmans, A Smoothie

Just got home from spending $235 at Wegmans for the week's groceries and back-stock. This after dropping my youngest and a friend at the mall and having my oldest drive from the mall to Wegmans on the highway. She is sixteen and her driver's ed. class will be on the highway this week so she wanted practice. Sure, why not? She did well and we made it to Wegmans where we shopped for an hour and a half, my girl in full command, me just following and paying the bill. Coming out, getting in the passenger seat, I looked at the clock. "4:03? How did it get to be 4:03 already?" I just wanted a nap. And a smoothie. 

I'm sipping that smoothie as I type this. A cup of milk, handful of spinach, one frozen banana, a heaping tablespoon of natural peanut butter (no sugar!), and a tablespoon of chia seeds. Delicious and nutritious, don't you know. I'm skipping the nap in favor of writing. That and I tend to make a mess drinking smoothies in bed while asleep. 

I wanted a nap because I ran ten miles this morning. I'm getting ready for The Fifty, as I call it and did two loops of the course on which I hope to run ten loops in August. I didn't plan to run two loops, but as I finished the first I felt good and wondered what it would be like to go for a second. Ten miles later I had my answer. You're thinking I'll say it hurt like hell. 

You're wrong. 

As I came down Euclid and turned into home, I smiled then laughed a little. It's okay. The neighbors know I'm weird. I laughed because it didn't hurt. I had felt my legs tire on the run, but not so much that I wanted to stop or was counting down the miles to home. I knew I would want a nap later (bet your ass I do), but coming up the driveway, stopping my GPS watch at 10.02 miles, I felt strong. I knew that I could have easily gone on for another mile or two and could have gutted out another loop.

I may feel differently tomorrow, but for now I feel good even if it is thirty degrees and snowing. It's Syracuse. These things aren't that shocking. And neither really is the run. 

The groceries are away. The girl is learning to drive. That smoothie was delicious. My legs are tired but strong. My feet too. I don't know if other people think about how strong their feet are, but I do, and I've got some work to do on them, but it's too cold to run barefoot. That can wait. So can the nap. I'm feeling too good to go to sleep just yet.