"The thrills of joy and thrills of pain are undistinguishable".

Thoreau, Walden

I have been an academic administrator for close to three years. The dean and assistant dean offered me the gig, much to my surprise, after 1) the department damn near fell apart, and 2) nobody else wanted to be chair. Now, I'm stupid. It's not that I'm ambitious for a huge office or lots of power. However, I have this nagging desire to prove myself. I have my theories as to where this desire emerges. As a teenager I managed to get kicked out of two high schools (ok, one "asked me to leave", but I get the feeling that I had replied "no", they would have been most insistent that I consider other options) and did time in a suburban teenage prison. I'll save the details for another post. However, once the powers that be declared me slightly (or more than slightly) insane, I had a hard time separating pathology from personality. For example, were I to fight with my girlfriend, I could not discern whether or not my drug-addled habits were to blame or I had legitimate concern. You second guess yourself a lot after lock-up.

So...after I arrived at my third high school, fresh out of prison, I worked my ass off. I managed, over the years, to plop myself in positions where I most certainly did not belong, well above my natural skills. Hence a thirty-four year old finds himself the chair of a major academic department in a small private university. How the fuck did that happen?

I worked hard, too. I think I did pretty well. However, as I get older, I find myself less and less ambitious. This is a good thing. I signed up for a two year term, which was extended, due to my dean's selective hearing, to three years. I've started my third year. The clock is ticking. I've spent too much time of the past years, esp. the last few months, up late at night worrying about this conflict or that document. I've sent way too many harried emails in the middle of the night. Last Monday morning I arrived at work before 3AM. I'm thirty-seven now. Time to stop. I've proved myself.

I think I'll struggle with cultivating habits that do not belong to a guy with two masters degrees and an ABD doctorate in thirteen years. I'll need to meditate. I'll need to walk. I'll need to keep my fucking mouth shut around the department. I'll to consciously walk away. These last few months I've been so tired. I would like some energy back. I want to write poetry again. I'm very aware of time. I'm constantly counting years, watching my kids, aware of my own mortality. I also know I could disappear from work and, after some brief confusion, the place would move on. I've seen too many talented people leave with hardly a ripple to think I matter that much. I'd rather find something I want to do. I think I can keep my job and disengage some. I hope so. More later.