2002-03-02
Gray Day, posted at 10:20 a.m.
Epiphany in Baltimore has moved to epiphanyinbaltimore.blogspot.com There's a scene in last year's underrated ski action flick Vertical Limit in which the lead character (Chris O'Donnell) jumps across a large gulley between two huge mountains. He's got his pick axes swinging madly, so one of them will hopefully catch into the snow and ice on the other mountain and he'll be able to cling and pull himself to safety.That's sometimes how I envision this move I made to this city - a huge leap across a big gulley, and I'm trying to pull myself up onto the other mountain with my pickaxes barely wedged into the snow.
Things have been going well, though. The snow is firm and my pickaxes are getting sturdier in the side of the mountain. I'm pulling myself up and feeling safer, less precarious.
Last night, though, I think the snow began to shift a bit. I could be slipping down the mountain.
Okay, I'll stop this ridiculous metaphor now and get into what happened... So, I've made some pretty good friends here, specifically at school. Marcia, the hilarious 40-ish teacher from Boston; Michelle and Kristen, two young new teachers from others parts of the country; Nick, a fun young teacher who I enjoy spending time with; and Teri, the mid-30-ish teacher who has organized a lot of the fun going-out stuff we've done and reminds me of Jenni before the awkwardness entrenched itself.
So, the five of us went out last night after work. (Baseball practice was cancelled due to the head coach's illness; I stayed at school and got tons of shit done). Rather than driving home and waiting for everyone to get ready, I invited myself along with Nick in his car after a quick game of catch (my first time throwing a baseball in years). We headed to the bar, and had a good time.
While there, though, Teri dropped a bombshell. She has resigned. She's taught there for six years, and is quitting as of mid-april. She got a job with a national non-profit women's freedom of choice group, which is something she believes in passionately - and she gets to direct the education program there.
That was the first bit of news that was a shocker and made me think the relationships and friendships I've developed here so far may be quite a bit more tenuous than I had suspected. Then, Nick said something along the lines of, "Well, you'll see me back at **** next year, but that's it. I'm moving to New York after that." The news was another blow - I had planned on being at the school for at least five years or so, and was hoping Nick - who has become one of my closest work friends, and probably has the highest potential for longterm friendship.
Both pieces of news, for some reason, devastated me. I thought I was finding my place here, but it seems like it's not lacking in permanence.
I'm overreacting, to be sure. Teri will still live in the city; I never see her anyway. And, who knows, maybe I'll only teach at this school another year. But what perhaps is bugging me is that everyone else seems to have longterm goals, but I don't. My goal was to get out of Michigan and experience something new. Now that that's accomplished, I still haven't made any more definite moves for my future. Still no girlfriend or prospects for one (I'm content in my singledom, but still...). Still not sure if I want to stay on the east coast, or move back to Michigan (I am missing friends and family quite a bit), or try something else new.
It reminds me of those M-Life commercials. You know, the ones with Linda Hunt speaking over emotional scenes, saying things like, "Why do we go across the world, then look for familiar faces?" and such. The question for myself would be along the lines of, "Why do you try to change your life and your outlook, then grasp for things that remind you of your old one?"
I'm just not sure.
It's a gray day outside, and in my head.