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6:23 a.m. - August 09, 2004
A breath
Heading off to the university to work my magic, the variety that eats me alive but guarantees stellar reviews. I wish it were less than magic so I could understand it, label it, call it a skill or in possession of that empathy a natural teacher evokes that in turn motivates students. But it's magic to me because I don't know where it comes from and cannot regulate its flow. It overwhelms me and I'm a matchbook boat vainly trying to look as though I'm the captain of the ship.

I am neither scared nor excited; I am resigned to teach and teach well, then return home in a few weeks to the same me holed up in his house. But while I am here I will be social and talkative and will slap colleagues on their backs, be effusive and happy, be a completely different Jason.


Over the past few nights I've noticed slight sounds of a bed shifting on the other side of the wall. It is comforting and I invite it, I strain to catch the sounds of another person living so close yet unseen.

Just now noticed a hole in my sock. For some reason it makes me smile.


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