I don’t make new year’s resolutions. I don’t believe in ’em. I never keep ’em. I find I can change my life quite substantially during Lent, thank you very much; it was thanks to Lenten abstinences that I lost the taste for potato chips and for sodas.
But that’s by the way.
I don’t get into new year’s resolutions, but I do get into changing my life. I tend to do that pretty regularly — every three to five years for the last twenty or so years. The one constant, the one element to which I keep returning? Academia, specifically the college/university where I have taught, part-time or full-time, since 1986.
So I say that to say this. I left the life of the bureaucrat behind five days ago, though I’d been on vacation for 8 weeks and 2 days (in the employ of the Bahamas government, a person is able to accumulate weeks of vacation from year to year. In the old days one could do that indefinitely, and I have met many civil servants who have easily 50 weeks of vacation (my parents were among those people). In recent times, things changed, and one could only accumulate up to 15 weeks’ vacation.
I have been whittling down my vacation all year long, else when October came I’d’ve had just about 12 weeks for this year.
This is one of the perks. This is one of the things that keep civil servants from going absolutely crazy. When you think about it, it’s one of the crueller tricks the service plays with you. It dangles this vaca-carrot before your face, and you run, lulled into happy thoughts of when you take it all, until you run over a cliff or a precipice or that baby someone placed in your path.
But I say all that to say this.
Constant academia may have been, but here’s what I would really like to do with my life. I’d like to write things, edit things, and run a theatre company. And make enough money to enable me to pay my bills.
That is my new life’s resolution. To get there someday, preferably before all my joints and synapses give out and I’m too old to recognize the milestone when I meet it.