Forces tugging

Being blessed with the gift of relative hour-to-hour freedom, it is all too easy to get swept up in the chorus of voices that tug at me from all directions, inside and out:  "you should call that guy, he needs a successor," "we need to clean this or that," "you're already in business for yourself," "get your taxes done," "I should really get involved in this or that to make a difference over time and justify myself at a higher level."

This morning I woke up from an anxiety dream about something dissertation-like.  My advisor/reader, modeled on this French Professor from Columbia who always reminded me of Roland Barthes (and I think he was working that look, frankly [pun intended]), was going through this project of mine going "it's brilliant in all these places, but it doesn't make sense."  And I awoke in a tizzy, thinking "what project is this he was talking about?  I defended my dissertation years ago.  And it occurred to me that the dissertation in this case was probably a metaphor for my life.

But then, at the bus stop in the morning, I noticed that Graham has been habitually tying his shoes very loosely, and that it's a danger for him out on the playground.  I remember how tricky that was as a kid, not just the tying part, but holding them taught while you do it.  It's hard for little hands. Hell, I haven't entirely mastered it myself.  That is something I need to come back to in the evening, lest he bust his face on the asphalt.