Someone With a Pen: Richard Grayson’s Diary

Tuesday, September 12, 2000

Noon. I woke up at 3 AM again and couldn’t get back to sleep. I feel like doing nothing but lying around, but I’ve just gotten scared thinking I’m in a clinical depression and need medication with therapy or both.

I haven’t been so unhappy in 20 years, and while I’d like to believe that given enough time, I could get out of this, maybe I shouldn’t have to suffer.

The insomnia must be a symptom of depression or perhaps a physical illness. Its main effect is to drain me of energy.

I do have good days after I’ve slept well, like a week ago, But for the most part I feel I’m dragging myself through these days.

Today’s normal high temperature is 99°, but today it’s supposed to reach 107° and be hotter still the rest of the week.

I feel unable to function. My classes are not going well, and I don’t really know what I’m doing. I feel bad for my students.

I need to grade at least the remaining English 105 papers today – ten of them – in order to keep up my schedule, and though I don’t have anywhere to go or anything to do besides that task, it seems very hard.

When I awoke in the middle of the night, I logged on, and at Planet Out, Seung-hyun replied to my note. He said he is sorry but he must be honest: “there was [no] chemistry with you.”

He is “too lonely” and needs a boyfriend, so he doesn’t want to be friends with me.

Seung-hyun ended by saying, “Please keep in mind that you are better than you think you are.” I don’t know what to make of his last statement. But I shouldn’t get involved with a guy now because I’m feeling so bad about myself. I am lonely, but that is not really my problem right now.

My problem is that I feel stuck, teaching comp as an adjunct again, going nowhere, deeply in debt, unable to figure out how to change my life, afraid to change, afraid not to…

Well, I could start looking for a job.

I was pretty unhappy before I got my position at the Center for Governmental Responsibility six years ago when I was an adjunct at Santa Fe Community College after three exciting years of law school.

I can keep looking in the classifieds and on websites. Certainly, I need to make sure I’m not doing this again for the spring semester.

I feel lost. I feel that if I try to reach deep into my core to figure out how to get out of this situation, there won’t even be a core there.

Above I mentioned the heat because it contributes to my feelings of powerlessness and helplessness. Today we’re on one of those air pollution alerts again.

Living in Arizona is getting associated in my mind with unhappiness, so I’m beginning to doubt I will ever be happy here. Or at least not depressed.

Maybe I should have stayed in South Florida and tried to get by adjuncting at Nova – but there probably wouldn’t have been Legal Studies classes for me and I’d just be doing comp, same as here, and that might be worse.

Despite the heat, I should get out. Spending all this time in this studio apartment isn’t helpful.

*

10 PM. I’ve just been lying here and realized I hadn’t gone back to my diary.

I did go out at 1 PM and got a haircut.

Then I went over to Borders, where I graded (too generously) the last ten English 105 papers and bought the Chronicle of Higher Ed, The Complete Idiot’s Guide to a Good Night’s Sleep, and a copy of Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile – a sweet kids’ book I remembered from my brothers having it – for Kiran.

Back at home, I tried to stay away from my bed as I read the book on insomnia. I’m obviously what the book calls a “rigid Lark.” As a Lark, I go to bed early and get up early, and I’m rigid because I get up at the same time no matter how late I fall asleep.

I probably should have started marking the English 101 papers, which will haunt me the next couple of days – but instead I tried to simply enjoy myself.

So after dinner, I went online, watched Big Brother, read the insomnia book, and scoured the Chronicle ad section, cutting out even unlikely jobs.

Teresa wrote that over the weekend in Fire Island, her landlord raised the rent by $2,000, which would have made it a $4,500 increase in two years. Paul hit the roof, and they began a search for a house they could buy themselves.

After some false steps, they settled on a very small house in Fair Harbor. The present tenant’s bid forced them to go up $5,000 more than they wanted to, but they got the house and will close in the winter.

Teresa will miss the house she’s lived in for so many summers, but Paul now has a different attitude because the new house won’t be a reminder of Teresa’s past in Fire Island. Diane will rent the old house.

They almost bought a second house as an investment, but that fell through.

I suspect Teresa and Paul are buying at the height of a Fire Island real estate frenzy, but who knows?

I still think there’ll be a real economic downturn in the next year from higher oil prices or some other shock, But that might be wishful thinking on the part of someone who’s poor and in debt and envious and disgusted with conspicuous consumption.

Sat Darshan still has plenty to do as the executor of her friend’s estate, And she asked me if I would be the executor of her own will, assuming she makes one out soon.

Kevin smashed his car up in an accident, so it’s back to the Los Angeles bus system for him. The car is pretty much totaled, and he’s waiting to hear from the insurance company.

---

Thursday, September 14, 2000

9 PM. I’ve just gotten home. Tomorrow’s Friday and the halfway point of September. I’ve almost gotten through another week.

I must have sounded more depressed than I thought in my last email to Teresa, for she advised me: “GET OUT NOW!” She said it’s okay that I made a mistake in moving to Phoenix and that I should return to Florida or come to New York. “Maybe you don’t like being a student,” she wrote.

But of course, where I am isn’t the problem, it’s who I am, and maybe more than that, it’s what I’m doing now. It hasn’t occurred to me not to stay here through the year.

If I can survive the summer here – and today it hit 112°, three degrees above the old record and thirteen degrees above normal – I sure as hell want to experience the fall, winter and spring, when it becomes pleasant here.

And I do like being a student. Tonight’s Arizona Media Law class and last night’s Newswriting and Reporting class got me into a group of people who know my name and can relate to me, at least somewhat, and I get to exercise my mind.

It sounds egotistical to say this, but while I’ve always known I don’t have a first-class intelligence, I have abilities that are far above my station in my life.

That’s an odd phrase: “station in life.” Well, I graded 13 semi-literate English 101 papers this morning at Borders after I had my MCC class. I am not going to look at their first drafts; instead, I had them workshop and peer-review, and I’ll take them next Thursday.

That way I can avoid looking at student papers this weekend and concentrate on reading the texts and my own coursework – and also applying for jobs. The MCC spring schedule of classes was out, and before our classes this morning, Debra and John were looking for English sections with “Staff” listed as teacher.

But I don’t want to be an adjunct anymore. I’ll take classes at ASU and MCC if I’m offered them, but I plan to be doing something else – and I’d better do that if I want to stave off bankruptcy by next summer or fall.

Although I keep getting credit line increases because I pay my accounts regularly, I don’t have enough money coming in. Tomorrow I’ll get a paycheck which is barely above what I was getting on Unemployment.

Doing my bills – writing out checks to credit card companies for the rest of the month – got me in a depressed state this afternoon. Of course, I’ve just been hanging on by the skin of my teeth before, and something’s always come up. Hopefully, it will again.

While I didn’t sleep enough last night, I got in about five and a half hours, and this afternoon I did lie down for another hour.

Right now I am not tired. I wonder when I will stop thinking – as I do at various times during the day, mostly starting in mid-afternoon – that it’s “really” three hours later on the East Coast. Maybe never. Or in November I’ll start thinking it’s “really” two hours ahead.

I would like to be looking back at this from a more stable time in my life.

Not all of this time has been terrible. Even now I’m listening to KJZZ-FM, which changes from NPR news and talk to jazz at 7 PM. The air conditioner here keeps me comfortable, and I love the jersey-like cotton sheets Teresa sent me. I’ve got the Internet whenever I want it, and at the moment I feel in reasonably good health. I have privacy, and if this studio apartment is quite small, it is my own space, and I’ve paid for it.

I would like to get a little of my confidence back. I guess I gambled and lost with the publication of Silicon Valley Diet.

Still, I’m glad the book, like my other books, exists. At least I kept trying to be a writer even though at times it might have looked as if I were courting failure.

I haven’t heard from my parents since I saw them a week ago, and I don’t miss them in the slightest.

---

Monday, September 18, 2000

8 PM. I fell asleep about this time yesterday, and I slept pretty well till 4:30 AM, so for a change, I wasn’t tired today. Today’s temperature didn’t reach 100°, but I’ve lived in Arizona long enough to detect the humidity in the air (like when the dewpoint is 61° even if the relative humidity is only 30%), and it didn’t feel any cooler. Maybe it will by next weekend, they say – though I suspect October is a better bet.

I got to school at 7:20 AM and bought some iced tea for my two hours in the office, during which I read a bit of today’s paper, prepared for class and found a gritty something at the bottom of my iced tea which turned out to be, when I spit it out, an ant. Yuck!

My classes went okay. I’m trying to introduce the exploratory writing assignment, which is a new one for me; they’ve got to record their process as they research a problem or question that puzzles them. It’s actually an interesting writing project, but it’s hard to explain, so doing so should take the rest of this week.

I have a pretty good rapport with both classes now, though at times they can be pains in the ass. If I really cared, I’d work harder. But what’s the point?

I notice that Trish Murphy, who’s supposed to be advising us new faculty associates, can’t seem to get anyone to post to the discussion board. Probably most of the new adjuncts (a term I prefer to “faculty associates”) have taught elsewhere, and others just don’t care.

After all, whether I or anyone else is a good teacher or not doesn’t really matter. If they have fewer classes next term, they’ll hire fewer adjuncts. Unless you do something egregious that gets you in trouble, it’s not as if it matters.

I came home soon after noon because although I wanted to say hi to Ron Carlson, when I looked in his office at 11:30 AM, he was busy talking to MFA students. (Later, I emailed him but don’t expect a swift response.)

I stayed in the rest of the day. For a change, I got a lot of mail, most of it credit card bills I’d already paid.

So what have I been doing in my little apartment? I’ve been reading: mostly today’s paper and yesterday’s, which I haven’t finished, as well as the AWP magazine, a copy of USA Today I found on campus, and ASU’s State Press.

I went online to exchange another couple of half-chatty, half-affectionate messages with Soner. It’s nice to be flirty and lovey-dovey with someone, especially a really intelligent and interesting guy. Of course, if he weren’t trapped in a country where homosexuality was taboo, I assume he wouldn’t give me a second glance – not even my decent photo on the Web.

I look at myself in the mirror and see the kind of middle-aged man who must look creepy to younger guys. As I said, I’m a troll. A reasonably well-put-together troll, but still a troll.

But it’s almost becoming a relief to accept that I’ll never be attractive to most of the guys I’m attracted to. I’ve always been good at celibacy, and I can give up a sexual life and start being a cranky old guy. Or a mature role model. Or whatever.

But serially, folks . . . Many times in the past year I’ve noted that one of my goals is to accept being 50, to stop fighting my age, to give in to it and celebrate it.

That is why I already tell everyone I’m 50. I probably mention my age so much that it must drive people who have to deal with me all the time crazy.

I suppose I should have tried to get out more on a day like today, but I don’t feel like doing that when it’s this hot. I’m waiting for a time – maybe a month of six weeks from now – when I can go out comfortably in long pants and sport shirt.

Because I don’t feel sleepy, I’ll probably just read some more now.

During this morning’s class discussion, a girl said, “I don’t know if you’ve heard of him, but there’s this rapper called Eminem . . .” and I said, “Of course, Marshall Mathers,” and my students seemed shocked that I knew his name. At least my reading lets me impress 18-year-olds.

---

Wednesday, September 20, 2000

2:30 PM. My sciatica is no worse today, and I’ve been able to get around. My cold sore is also better.

This morning I shaved only my neck because in the hours after 3 AM as I lay awake, I decided it’s time to see what I look like with a beard again. Perhaps I won’t go through with it, but I want to see how gray or white my beard grows in and whether it covers up my turkey neck or nasolabial (labionasal?) furrows.

I’m not sure I care anymore about looking young. I’m not young, so why go to all the stress of dealing with it?

Of course, there’s a contradiction if I hope my beard covers up my wrinkles. Well, I tell my comp students to wallow in complexity and not be afraid of paradox.

I got a few hours of heavy-duty sleep last night, so I’m not totally wiped out. Today we’re supposed to approach the record high of 105° for the day, and the only relief in sight is nothing more than approaching regular highs for this time of year: 97° or 98°.

I feel a bit foolish about seeing Professor Sylvester in tonight’s class after the show-offy email about Nixon that I sent him. But ultimately who cares what he thinks of me? Okay, I do. I really want people to know that I’m smart. In New York and Florida, everyone who knew me knew that.

I told Tom that Teresa’s suggestion about me teaching public school in New York City immediately made me think of Emil Jennings at the end of The Blue Angel, the stuffy professor reduced to playing a clownish figure of ridicule at a nightclub where the patrons jeered him.

Tom is still upset about the transformation of NOCCA and the Times-Picayune’s whitewashing of Dr. Otis’s purge of faculty in their article about the school.

The paper seemed to go out of its way to trash the teachers who left NOCCA and to cover up the dissatisfaction with the new state-run agency and its mindless orientation toward “the community” and corporate culture and away from arts professionalism.

Today on NPR, I heard a debate about arts and music education that was totally premised on whether or not it raises students’ scores on different standardized tests.

Everything today has to be geared to the practical function of preparing student to engage in corporate culture. Higher education is now entirely driven by the marketplace. You can’t suggest studying art and music for the intrinsic value of those subjects or in order to produce cultured and well-rounded human beings.

Am I ranting?

My classes went okay today. I went over my students’ topics for their exploratory paper and tried to get them to think. (Why does Dorothy Parker and horticulture just pop into my brain now?)

At home, I did a load of laundry and spoke to Mom, who told me that Marc was in Vegas this week, staying with Lew, who flew in from Miami, met Marc at Sky Harbor and flew on with him to Vegas.

I can’t believe the Cronkite School poll of Arizona voters puts Gore ten points ahead of Bush in this very Republican state.

Most every night as I lie in bed, I think about Locust Valley and Davie and wonder if I’ll ever feel as fondly toward Mesa as I do. I can’t imagine that happening.