I have had some truly wonderful periods in my adult life, each for its own reason. Life in NYC. Seattle, 1995-1999 -- but then I changed jobs. Lawrence, the first year and a half. Seattle for the last couple of years. I think school at Raleigh is like that. I am planning a directed reading in Daniel Defoe. I am editing 300 lines of pentameter about chickens and dream theory. I am working on a novel. I am reading Dante and the Aeneid. Because I am in an MFA program, instead of an MA or PhD, I can if I wish explore these things in terms of craft, instead of as literature. I love this, the best job ever.

If I am lucky enough to end up doing what I want, teaching at the university level (and the writing yes yes), there will be a lot less Roman de la rose and a lot more reading post-adolescent fiction and sitting on faculty committees. I recognize that this is for two years only. I intend to enjoy the luxury of this time, these thoughts, this writing. I will end up owing a ton of money, but so do people who buy BMWs.

I was having trouble with my ankle, and saw a doctor and then a physical therapist last week. Diagnosis: a build-up of internal scar tissue that needs to be broken up -- and (as long as I was there, and she had an extra hour) I have a pile of unrelated exercises to open my pelvis and strengthen my knees. And so forth.