& yet & yet
The University of Edinburgh lost my application for this fall, and US Airways can't find my reservation to fly home at the end of this month. Everything apparently wants me to stay in Carolina, though I can't say I'd mind. I taught Stephen Dunn's "Loves" tonight and talked with the kids about juggling autobiography and truth, how they're not always the same thing. The same with my life: the more time I spend here, the more I want to teach gifted children, artistic children, kids in cargo shorts hungry for truth. On my nights off I've been singing karaoke and eating soft pretzels at the bar with the thirty-something instructors and Chris. So much Chris: at the arcade winning the high score at basketball, wrestling during a frisbee game on wet grass, finding ourselves fifty miles west after an hour on an eastern highway. Laurel's left - my only girl friend gone - and now it's just me and him and the philosophy instructor, that ex-Marine with long hair, and the hilarious international relations teacher, a transplant from Detroit. I'm applying to teach here next year. I like how I have solid plans for next summer but none for the next nine months. This week I'm hammering out my fall plans and then we'll see how I can get home.
Me, Melinda (the Ecology TA-turned-instructor), and Laurel.
'Tina, eat your food, gosh.'
Chris and I at the gelato shop.
Me, Melinda (the Ecology TA-turned-instructor), and Laurel.
'Tina, eat your food, gosh.'
Chris and I at the gelato shop.