feather2pixels

I love this. This is why the Maritime Academy is so great:

So now I teach in the auditorium. It’s better than the ship.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I teach aboard the ship. When I step aboard, the federally-mandated security officer always greets me with “how’s it goin’, teach.” It might be one of the best things about my job. As far as today goes, I foresee a lot of hermitting in my office with the door closed. My big interview in on Tuesday. I should know about the summer soon (to sail or not to sail).

For the time being, Morgan Jameson and Indy Sarah are both out of the picture. While this is obviously what was supposed to happen, many questions remain unanswered: why did i push away what i could have for what i could not? Does something good automatically become something bad? Do I posses the ability to take control of my life? At any rate, now I will need to invent new ways to feel sorry for myself. Thank God Fall Out Boy just released a new album.

For the second week in a row, Phanna and I defied all odds to win trivia night alone. I wouldn’t mention it if it weren’t the best thing tha happened all week. Not just the Pig Buck, but hanging out with Phanna–he told me that he’s finally ready to start being human again, which certainly sounds like good news.

There is absolutely nothing good about text messaging.

I am at work. It’s 5:44 and I get wistful here at night so sorry about this. I’m walking back to work after an on-campus dinner. Outside the mess deck, one of my favorite students, Baby Bluehawk, eying my load of manila folders offers to help me finish my grading while she is at work. She’s starting her shift at the library and will be there until ten. A group of five sweating students on an Indian run passes me on the left, chanting militant nonsense.  It’s getting dark and there is a light on in my office.  I hate to quote indie rock on my blog but this has stuck with me for weeks:

“we sailed away on a winter’s day
with fate as malleable as clay
but ships are fallible, i say,
and the nautical, like all things, fades.”

In the distance, a tugboat squeezes a barge out of the Carquinez Straight towards open water as the sunset casts the San Pablo Bay soft pink. I should know more about that–barges and things. But I am just floating through all of this. My energy is focused on things that will surely collapse. People who will surely fade. And I cannot stop myself.