The Rabbit Died

I didn’t think I’d post another entry so soon, but I’m a little upset and I wanted to note: Tekkie died today. He was left here around four o’clock and seemed fine, but when A and I came into the house around six, the rabbit was dead on the kitchen floor. There was nothing wrong with him on the outside, so we assumed he must have been poisoned by eating dead leaves from the tree outside. I had allowed him to wander around the enclosed patio. It was either that or perhaps parasites from the lettuce he had been fed. Such a delicate little thing. He was turning out to be a bit of a nuisance with the foot nipping and constant pooping, but he really was a cute little ball of fur. I had him here less than two weeks. I can’t seem to keep a pet, and it always hurts when they’re gone.

Alone with a Rabbit

Another depressing weekend sitting here alone, except now there is a rabbit with me—given to me by my students for my birthday, but all he does is crap and bite, so he is not good company.
I have papers to grade and charts to prepare—work which should have been done a week ago, but I haven’t the enthusiasm needed to complete my tasks. In this new position, there is no end in sight. I’m expected to work through the summer now, so days just repeat themselves. This semester will end in a couple of weeks, and the faces will change, but the work will go on and on and on. It is no longer fulfilling.
I don’t get time to write. I’m snatching moments to make this entry. Granted I’ve just passed through my memorial week, when I have vowed not to write, but it is like that most of the time now. There is too much to do—none of which I want to do. I’m feeling old, lonely, and often despondent. Uncreative. Repetitive days do not inspire.
These moments when the space is too warm and I don’t even feel like getting dressed, I sit in front of a fan and smoke cigarettes and stare into space dreaming of things I will write, but those thoughts don’t make it to the page. It seems I often journalize to express my angst, but frequently I don’t even do that. Rather, I often succumb to the numbingness of sitting through a movie I’ve already seen several times because that requires no expulsion of energy, and it can sometimes revive a pleasant memory of the ephemera surrounding the original viewing. Of course, there are times when I push myself to write things down and this has thus become a Journal of Disappointments and Depression, perhaps not something I am ever going to want to reread if the veil lifts.

Ambivalence

This is the time of year I feel so ambivalent about. Yes, it’s spring. Days are sunny, but not so stifling hot, and there is a sense of renewal in the air. But specifically these two weeks in early April are a painful reminder to me of that April of the year 2000… At this juncture, I find it difficult to believe five years have passed, and how much my life has changed. …
April is also tax time and again I become aware of my neglected duties. I am no patriot, but I know what I’m supposed to do. Blank forms are upstairs—I just never get around to remitting them.
This is also the time when all test preparation begins. Third partials are this coming week—then extemps are to be administered—followed too closely by final exams. This year will be different in that I will not have the summer off.
I did not go up to New York during Semana Santa, but hope to, perhaps, make the trip some time in July. I can take two weeks, but my financial situation is not as it once was, so I’m not sure yet when I will return. A is setting up something for a seminar in Spain around that time, and it would make sense to take care of my business simultaneously, but well…
Yesterday was the day of the water dumping. I don’t want to say more about that, but simply note it here to remind myself of how crazy Stress Week makes me. It’s a poor excuse, I know, but some things never change. They just manifest themselves in different ways.
I want to go to San Cristóbal today even though I have so many things to do and should get to them. I mean to go no matter what is pressing. Sometimes I get sidetracked by details, but I am always reminded that, “Life is short. Carpe diem.” Occasionally, I take heed and rush headlong into whatever appeals to me most. There is so little diversion on offer and what I like—I like. When the final tally is taken, I want to come out winning and as I see it, there’s only one way I can. Perhaps there is more than one way, but not many, not by a long shot.