This Universe of ours. It’s infinite in its randomness and yet, some days, it just seems that short of a meteor smacking us in the face, it couldn’t be any weirder.
I started my new, glorious full time teaching gig today. I get to my office and the department secretary had my syllabi copied and collated and stapled for me and my fellow professors stopped by to say hi and commiserate about students (which I know they are feeling right now but I’m all Mary Freaking Poppins around there inside, so I played the part as best I could) and were all talking to me like I was their peer and not some peon. It was like a glass of iced tea on a hot summer day.
But then I got a frustrating call letting me know that my last adjunct class at another university (that was going to help get us ahead monetarily) was given to a full time professor…a week after the class started…and I had to tell the students. It was a bad situation all the way around and I felt wronged. And we all know how I get when I feel wronged.
(Side note: When I talked to my brother about this on the phone this afternoon, he asked if he was going to have to read a blog post about it with a GIF…we joked about it being the one of Peter Griffin throwing up…so…I’m required by blogging law, I think…but here’s a better non-pukey Peter Griffin instead.)
I pulled my frustrated self together and went to go teach my first class at the new job. Even though this is the first lecture hall class I’ve ever taught, I really hit my stride. I felt in control and even with technological hiccups (learn how to push a button, Kim) it felt right. As I’m going through the registration list and people are introducing themselves, I see it…one of my students has the same first and last name as my former boss. Well, ain’t that something.
Here’s the kicker: Just as I’m frustrated with the one thing and thrilled with the other, I get an email from a partner at the firm I clerked at in law school wanting to know if I’d be interested in working there as an attorney…a job, mind you, that I was lobbying for back in 2007.
What in the hell kind of day was this?
It’s one of those days that makes you question your choices and simultaneously thank your lucky stars. How does that happen? While we’re often reminded that good prose doesn’t call for heavy reliance on exclamation points and question marks, maybe that’s because life does. Some days have enough for a year. Some years enough for a century.
In the car on the way to work this afternoon, I was listening to Fresh Air with Terry Gross and thinking I’d like to be interviewed by her some day. Some day I hope my life is worthy of a Terry Gross interview. And then, in the midst of it, was a book review of a novel that details the life of an ordinary woman in extraordinary prose.
Maybe we’re all just ordinary people in the midst of extraordinary prose…some that lasts a day, some that lasts longer. When all the fires are put out and the day is done, the exclamation points and question marks in our days are what make this ordinary life so worthy of extraordinary prose.
If I’m lucky, maybe one day, I’ll get my interview on Fresh Air.
So Kim, she’ll ask, what’s the secret to great GIF curation?
And I’ll answer.