So, I'm trying to balance the freelance editing gig with the online SAT essay grading job. I had planned on having Jack in day care from 9-4 this week to give me a lot of "day" space to do both jobs. But, the kid's had this crazy fever so, Ed & I have been doing the "Jack shuffle" - I coordinate the editing office visits with Ed's classes so one of us his home with Jack since he can't go to daycare with a fever. My first thought when Jack has a fever is - "oh, my God, he's got Triple E (that mosquito-carried disease affecting a handful of people in the Northeast). My second, more rational (and self-centered) thought is, "crap- how am I supposed to get all my work done? I took the "day" off from SAT grading yesterday because I was tired from worrying and caring for Jack and juggling two luxurious jobs. As I sat on the couch watching Martha's Apprentice, I thought the better person would suck it up, and get to work. Honestly, I was exhausted. And, even though not grading for those four hours could potentially keep me from future scoring jobs (they are only picking the top 1200 scorers to continue grading. top 1200 out of how many? don't know - I tried to find out, but no one who helps us scorers seems to know), I'm not going to worry. Driving home today from the South End (publisher location), I had a strange thought/emotion: things will work out. Granted, that's easier to think when things indeed ARE working out, but my this freelance job is nearly over and I don't have a lead on anything else. And while I should be worrying about securing a online grading job every other month, I can't force myself to competently read a hundred essays at the end of a long day working and mothering (not that mothering isn't working).
This blog wasn't intended to justify a lazy evening (or, maybe it was). I originally started writing to say that I'm actually learning to let things be and happen - balancing listening to instinct and working for what is needed and what I want to happen.
I was feeling all of this gushy, cosmic warmth about the paradox of fate and free will when I decided to check out ticketmaster for upcoming Depeche Mode concerts. Ed & I are silently ecstatic to purchase DM's new single and album (out this week and next)- the single is AWESOME. It harkens back to "Enjoy the Silence" era, promising the stripped back authentic kind of DM music that creating these fans in the first place. Well, guess what? Tickets are, for the most part, sold out at any of the venues worth traveling to (they aren't coming to Boston so I checked out Atlantic City, Montreal, and Las Vegas- I mean, what the hell). I checked out Ebay and we could purchase tickets anywhere from $299 (for crap seats) to $1100 - with at least 12 hours left to bid. Just when I was feeling good about our place in the universe, I find out that I want to go to a concert that I KNOW will be AMAZING- something that is bigger than our little lives - a moment that I AM SURE that if I was apart of would be one of those fleeting memories that flash in front of you before death. Yeah, Jack and Ed, my childhood and college might make it in there - maybe even some grandkids, but this DM concert is bound to be in the top 5. Is that sad? Whatever it is, I'm pissed that there's something out there that can make $1100+ bucks - it just confirms the fact that everyone knows how incredible the experience will be and that I won't be apart of it. I'll be home scoring student essays that use the word "your" for "you're."
By the way, Jack's fever is down. If it wasn't, I wouldn't be romanticing about the parallel life where Ed & I are in Boston sans child, willing to drop a few C notes to fly to New York for what I've made out to be the experience of a lifetime.