Screw that, frankly.
Y'know what I'm doing right now? I'm sitting on the couch with my love under an HBC blanket watching Chef. We ate dinner together at the dining room table, no work allowed. I had wine, on a Wednesday. On my way to and from work today (and at lunch for awhile too) I read M.F.K. Fisher's With Bold Knife and Fork, book thirteen on the food writing comprehensive list I've set for myself this year. I should have done a PhD in food writing, but I'm making up for it now. On Friday night, I had belated bachelorette party that reminded me how much fun it is to just dance. On Sunday, I spent most of the day in the kitchen, alternating between the stove and some articles I was editing. I made Marcella Hazan's tomato-butter sauce (the best recipe ever, no exaggeration), poached pears with cardamom and orange, a giant pear bundt cake for my co-workers, beluga lentils with garlic and bay, an orange root vegetable soup spiked with vermouth and zata'ar, coffee ice cream, and Food52's genius oven fries (which really are genius). We're eating really well this week--pears with greek yogurt and muesli for breakfast, soup with lentils for lunch, and veggie meatball sandwiches with tomato sauce and provolone for dinner--without having to think about it, because I did all that thinking on Sunday. I get up early and start work an hour late so that I can write before I head to the office, but I also spend 20 of those minutes meditating and 10 minutes drinking coffee and hanging out with Moose for his daily "chair time."
Moose + his people + the living room carpet he thinks we bought just for him = happy cat.
It's telling, though, that I still feel the need to write what comes next, to justify doing the things that light me up: I write, every single day. I work hard at the office, and we get a lot done. My side research and publishing projects are all well in hand. I'm presenting at a conference every weekend but one in May. I love that stuff. But it's important to note that I love it in ways that I didn't, or couldn't, when I was labouring under the delusion that to do anything other than meet the demands of the academy was a waste of time. I wanted an #altac job at least in part because I wanted more of this--more of the revelling in a fridge full of things I'd made myself, more of delicious prose about meals eaten sixty years ago, more time with my guys, more control over my life. Almost without realizing, I got it.
I treasure the people, the very many of my friends, who are so committed to their teaching, to their students, that they're willing to do whatever it takes--teaching at three schools, going without an office or medical benefits, being on EI over the summer, living apart from their partners--to do what they love. But I also marvel at the power of the academy, the draw of that culture and its privileging of a single kind of love and worth, that makes me feel like the outlier in making the choices I have about work and life. I don't know where that gets us, but it's something I think about a lot.
What about you, dear readers? How do you make room for doing what you love? What choices, easy or hard, have you made to get to keep doing what you love, at work or out?