Wednesday, September 19, 2007


...I was in a coma for seven months...

...I was thinking of joining the priesthood and went to a seminary, but earthly temptations proved too much to withstand...

...I spent most of my time doing utterly boring and mundane things that have no business being blarrgghhed about.

One of these statements is a fact, or what a philosopher would call an objective consensus on a fundamental reality. I'll let you decide which one.

In the meantime I will tell you that it is also a fact that I have a Master's degree in public policy and am now officially a PhD student. I will probably take my comprehensive exams next fall and submit a dissertation proposal, at which point I will be a doctoral candidate, or what is referred to as ABD (all but dissertation). This will be a step up from my usual state of ADD, ADHD and ASSHOLE.

Lisa and I are in new digs closer to the center of JP. The apartment is beautiful, newly renovated and wonderfully spacious. The only drawback is a lack of closet space. All our dirty little secrets are out in the open, like the fact that we own no less than seven guitars, two amps, a drum kit, a keyboard and enough assorted percussion instruments to do a live version of Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough. I think we even have a Vibra-Slap. Dirty.

I was talking with somebody about how clothes are an extension of the image you want to project, and we agreed that your house/home/apartment is (or can be) an extension of that, too. Moving out of the old apartment has had a good effect on my psyche. The old place was a decent apartment. Lots of closets. But the rooms were all separated from each other by tiny little doorways. As you walked from the living room at the front of the apartment to the kitchen in the back, you had to do a kind of psychic compression through each doorway. In the new place, the living room and kitchen are connected by a great big doorway. In fact they're almost one big room. I can stretch my head a bit.

We still have a lot of boxes to empty out, and I need to get rid of a few dozen books if I can find that many I can part with, but we immediately felt at home here. Now I have to get over the inertia that has settled in and get the last of the stuff unpacked and in place. It's funny how stuff you thought was absolutely essential to your life can sit at the bottom of a box for a month and you don't even miss it. What more proof do I need that it wasn't so important in the first place?