The husband and child are downstairs watching The Incredibles. I'm up here typing. This is my last day of vacation and I'm sad. It's pathetic that I'm dreading tomorrow when I don't even do much of anything at work most of the time. Actually, I'm starting to realize that's one of the reasons why I'm dreading going back to work tomorrow. I get angry sitting at my desk when I don't have anything to do because I think about all the stuff I could be getting done at home or my daughter's school or at church. I don't like being stagnant. My work is cyclical, so sometimes things are really rolling along at a fast clip and other times it's just dead, dead, dead. The dead times are murder. Pure torture because I only have the vast space of my mind to keep me company and, let me tell you, that's a tricky thing sometimes.
There's something going on in the park across the street from my house. It looks like a bunch Notre Dame kids decided to drive over and have a cookout. They're all over there eating hotdogs and throwing frisbees and footballs. They're horsing around on the playground equipment. And this is how I know I've officially become an old fart: I'm sitting here thinking what made them decide to do this on a Sunday night when everyone has to go to bed for work and school? How long are they planning on staying over there? Are they going to make a lot of noise when I'm trying to go to bed? Are they going to be rowdy all night long? What the hell are they thinking? These are actually my thoughts. I have become my parents and it's scaring the ever-living shit out of me. When did I start being bothered by young people trying to have a good time. I'll tell you something else, I call the cops if high schoolers are out at the park after curfew. I do. I did it the first week we moved in. The second time I called the cops, I was really concerned there was some kind of "wilding" going on because those kids that time were doing stuff that just didn't seem kosher, if you know what I mean. Anyway, it was strangely satisfying to watch them scatter like cockroaches as soon as the squad car pulled up. I laughed when it happened. Am I just dried-up and dead on the inside? Yeah, probably. Oh well.
OK, I'm laughing now because the movie is over and my husband has apparently just looked out the window and he's just yelled up, "Why are people parked in the grass [in the park]?"
Me: It looks like a bunch of college kids having a party.
Kid: What the heck is going on out there?
Husband: But why are they parking in the grass?
Me: I guess they didn't want to park on the street.
Husband: But that's just wrong. I'm calling the police.
And so now I'm lauging. Obviously, I'm not the only old fart in the house. I don't know if that makes me feel any better.
Holy crap. I don't know what those kids are cooking out there but it is smoking up like a Montana forest fire. One girl is holding up a pair of fluorescent orange volleyballs right at chest level, and since it's dusk, it's putting a whole new twist on the "headlights" idea.
Here's another reason I'm dreading going to work. Although I am not the type of person who needs a lot of outward praise for my work, I absolutely expect to be treated with a level of respect commensurate to the quality of work I put out. Even though I talk a lot about not having much to do, I can assure you I'm damn good at what I do, and that's part of the reason why I have a lot of time on my hands. I do what I do in a very timely manner. You can chalk all of this up to conceit, but that's just the way of it. At any rate, lately, I have not been feeling the love, so to say. The problem with doing a job well is that people start forgetting what it was like with someone who wasn't nearly as accomplished in the job and then they start expecting the truly unreasonable because they start thinking the really impressive is ordinary. And while, as I look back on what I've just written, I realize I'm blowing things out of proportion a bit, I still affirm people are trying to get something for nothing from me and it's starting to piss me off in a royal way. I've been talking about my disenchantment with academics and academia lately, and it's all wrapped up with that, as well.
People are starting to leave the party. Maybe the mosquitoes are getting to them. If the party is breaking up already, it sure wasn't a very long one. Why even bother if it's only going to be for an hour? Surely, if all they wanted to do was roast some wieners, they could have done that on campus.
Anyway, I'm not going to complain about work anymore tonight because I cannot adequately express my malaise. We had a newcomer's brunch at church today. It was OK. One of my friends quit the social life commission, so my work with that won't quite be the same anymore. There's this thing with us mid-thirtysomething women. We're just not satisfied with any of it. We were supposed to go out have the world on a platter and we're finding out it comes with a bad case of e coli.
Also, I ate too many powdered mini-donut gems and my stomach hurts. I don't even like powdered mini-donut gems.
April 10, 2005
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