Someone With a Pen: Richard Grayson’s Diary

Monday, October 15, 2001

4 PM. Pat Jason’s assistant at Nova Law School texted me the schedule of my interview for next Wednesday. When I picked it up at OfficeMax, I was even more freaked out than I had been.

Here it is:

9 AM-10 AM: meet with Dean Joseph R. Harbaugh.

10 AM-11 AM: meet with ARP Committee faculty.

11 AM-12 PM: meet with Patricia Jason.

12 PM-1:30 PM: faculty forum / LUNCH.

1:30 PM-2:30 PM: meet with Billie Jo Kaufman.

2:30 PM-3:30 PM: meet with ARP Committee student leaders.

Plus there’ll be dinner that evening. That’s an ordeal, not an interview! I can’t imagine anything worse.

I’m terrified how I’ll handle this. It will be such a long, stressful day. When will I have the time to eat or to go to the bathroom? My worst impulse is to say forget about it, but I can’t do that; I’d regret it the way I regret all my fear-based decisions to avoid things.

But I don’t know how I’m going to endure the fear that I’ll be feeling – that I have been feeling.

Last evening the Klonopin helped, making me groggy. When I lay down, I slept well and even had some vivid dreams. But all day and right now I’ve been scared. I feel I can’t focus.

It’s anxiety, sure, but it’s more like pure fear. Well, I know: feel the fear and do it anyway.

Crescent had on her email invitation to this Thursday’s Poetluck at Dairy Hollow the message she puts on the bottom of all her emails, the quote from Mark Twain: “Courage is mastery of fear, not absence of fear.”

If I don’t go to this Nova job interview, I will feel worse than I do now.

Of course, I can keep avoiding things, the way I’ve done lately when I’ve gone to stay at artist colonies or at friends’ houses or when I go to the movies in the afternoon – today I saw the mediocre Woody Allen film, Curse of the Jade Scorpion, at the $2.50 theater at the Superstition Springs Mall – but eventually I have to face reality.

As Cedric said as Julius Caesar: “Cowards die many times before their deaths / The valiant never taste of death but once.”

And I’m not the only person who’s scared. I just got an email from Vincent, and he told me he canceled his trip to New York because he was concerned about terrorism.

And I’d been thinking Vincent is fearless. Well, I don’t think this job interview would bother him.

I love – – (I was going to write that I love something, but now I don’t know what that is.)

Dairy Hollow forwarded the letter to me that Elihu sent to Arkansas. He was never really angry with me about the “Salugi at Starbucks” story. I’m so relieved.

Direct Loans sent a letter saying I owe them over $3,000 right away. I called them for an unemployment deferment, and they said I have only a total of five months of unemployment deferment left because I’ve had that deferment so much.

I’m just thinking that everything’s going to come to a head. What if I have to default on my student loans? If I did, how could I go on with my life?

I’d just go on, I suppose: “I can’t go on, I’ll go on.” I love Beckett.

Okay, kiddo, you’ll be all right.

But I’ve been talking to myself like that for a year now. Am I any better off now than I was last October 15, when I decided I needed psychiatric help?

The answer to that is yes. I’ve had a lot of good experiences and I’ve probably learned something from the bad times even if I haven’t quite figured things out yet.

I couldn’t read the New York Times today. I couldn’t really function much at all. I wrote to Susan, asking for advice.

Although I slept soundly last night, I’ve wanted to lie down a lot today as a means of escape.

Maybe this will all sort itself out. Fear doesn’t remain constant forever. I’ve still got four nights and three days before I go to Florida. I can be okay; I’m not going to have another breakdown.

That’s what really scares me, I guess, and the fear I’m feeling, as Susan Jeffers says, is really just the fear that I can’t handle what’s coming up in my life the next two weeks,

But if I discover that I can get through it – even if I don’t get the Nova job – won’t I feel a sense of accomplishment?

Many people in America are afraid today. Anthrax letters keep turning up, and as Susan wrote, many people have PTSD from the World Trade Center and Pentagon bombings.

For now, if I need to lie down, so be it. The Times can go unread for a day; being in Eureka Springs without the paper cured me of that obsessiveness.

And remember: as long as I face my fear, I don’t have to be doing it every minute of the day.

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Thursday, October 18, 2001

4:30 PM. I’m nervous but not hysterical. Last night I managed to sleep well again thanks to 0.5 mg. Klonopin. I slept from 10 PM till 4:50 AM, almost seven hours.

At worst, this trip will get me out of my parents’ house for a while. Through Frank’s generosity, I’ll have the use of his condo for myself. And I’ll also be able to see South Florida again.

Tomorrow will be a tense, hectic day, but that’s to be expected whenever long air trips happen. I’m all packed, taking my garment bag suitcase and another one on wheels, and I’ll have my backpack for the plane.

I took Mom to Bashas’, but the flu shots were canceled so I left her in the store to shop. When she was finished, we drove back home and I lay down for a while, exercising only later.

I spent most of the morning lying in Marc’s bed. For some reason, nervousness makes me sleepy – or weary, anyway. Yet I think I feel less anxious today than I did yesterday or Tuesday.

Tomorrow my anxiety will be focused on the trip and not the interview. I downloaded a lot of pages from other law schools programs that are similar to Nova’s Academic Resource Program.

I see that Marty Peters runs an academic support program at the University of Iowa since last year. I wish I’d have known that sooner because I would have asked Marty for some advice.

But today I printed out the webpages she has, as well as pages from the websites of similar programs at Dayton, Vermont and Santa Clara. I’ll reread them as I approach the interview.

Today I wrote to Sat Darshan, Mark Bernstein, Tom, Josh (who’d asked, “What’s up?”), and other friends.

I was very pleased to get a long note from Vincent, who told me I shouldn’t worry about other people judging me and that it was ridiculous of me to think that he’d think less of me because I might be working in a law school rather than in some arty environment.

Vincent says he admires that I’m multi-talented (like himself) and he said he’ll be thinking of me over the next week.

The people at that glossy magazine in New York who wanted him to write about the brothel actually had the nerve to say that the editor (who never contacts him directly) wanted to be a customer there.

After Vincent wrote back to say that he’s not a pimp, the people at the magazine seemed chastened, but he worries that this piece might exploit the brothel, something he would never want to do.

It’s weird how important Vincent has become to me. I’m sure I’ll eventually settle into a lower-key relationship with him, but he’s just another great friend I’ve been privileged to have in this life.

If my fiction has any themes other than the usual postmodern suspects, it’s that friendship is the most important thing in people’s lives.

For me, it’s probably been more important than for most people since I haven’t really been able to sustain romantic or intimate long-term relationships – unlike just about everyone I know except maybe Pete and a couple of others, and for all I know, they’ve had long-term girlfriends or boyfriends.

I want the book I’ve been working on to show how important friends are, and I want to give characters other than myself their due without making it mawkish.

Brian’s review of one book said he doesn’t want to read any 18-year-old’s diaries, so I wonder how he’d feel about the diary sections of my novel.

Did I just call it a novel? I’ve avoided that term, but I guess there it is. It certainly needs a lot of work before it’s the book I want it to be.

Of course, if I get the Nova job, I’m going to have to put it aside for a while, which might be a good thing.

I guess I never should have thrown away the “novel” I wrote in 1975, since this book is so similar to it. But I’ve got to break it wide open in a lot of ways, and that will take time and thought.

Can I be happy being a law school administrator? I think so, sure. I need stability; I need a place I can call home.

But if I don’t get the job, maybe there’ll be a silver lining.

Too bad I couldn’t have spent the past year working on my writing during all the time I filled with having a nervous breakdown.

But no matter what I’ve done, I’ve always gotten back to my writing somehow, and eventually I’ll do that again.

Besides, the longer ago the early 1970s are, the more my book will seem like a historical artifact, and that’s an advantage.

Compared to 2001, 1971 seems like an idyllic, innocent time. It’s good I can even write about this now rather than dwell upon my nervous symptoms.

See, I associate a lot of this with Vincent because he was the first person in a long time to believe in my writing.

I said I’d write him at length later, but that for now I just wanted to thank him for his “encouragement and generally being a pal.”

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Friday, October 19, 2001

10:30 PM in North Miami Beach.

Aunt Sydelle and Frank just left, and I’m alone in Frank’s condo in The Moorings. I can see Sky Lake from the bedroom, where there’s a Florida room attached.

If I go out the front door, I can see Grandpa Nat and Grandma Sylvia’s old condo among the apartments perpendicular from here on the first floor. (Frank’s condo is on the second floor.)

It’s rather odd to be spending the night in someone else’s home I’ve never been in before, and I feel like I’m imposing. But Frank is so solicitous and nice that I really do feel as if he’s my uncle.

I got his king-sized bed to sleep in, and he says that even if he comes home, he’ll sleep on the couch, though of course I’d never let him do that. Hopefully, Aunt Sydelle won’t drive him crazy.

Last night I took 0.5 mg. Klonopin which put me into a deep sleep for six hours. I was up at 4 AM, and Jonathan drove me to Sky Harbor soon after 5 AM. I noticed the stars were incredibly bright at that hour: Orion, the Big and Little Dippers, etc.

Although I got to the airport two hours before the flight, there were tremendously long lines at the Delta check-in counter and then to going through Security to the gates.

Compared to past flights, there were a few more questions to answer, a lot more showing of photo IDs (which we had to do boarding the plane as well) and I had to take off my shoes before going through the usual detectors.

My feeling is that airlines have used the terrorist attack to cancel unprofitable routes and manage passenger yield. Both my flights were totally booked, and they had to ask for volunteers to take later flights for $200.

The day spent in the air was boring. I ate badly from the “deli bags” we picked up upon boarding.

On the flight to Dallas, I sat next to a couple of cute young guys who were hip Austinites, but on the flight from Dallas, I had a middle seat by people who slept, making it hard for me to get up and go to the bathroom.

However, both flights got in on time, and my luggage appeared in Fort Lauderdale right away.

Mostly I did a lot of thinking in the air. I thought about Vincent, of course, but also about Sean and Gianni and Shelli and Jerry and different people in my life.

As we landed in Fort Lauderdale and I kept looking out the window, the phrase “You’re home, you’re home” resounded in my head.

Am I home now? ¿Quién sabe?

Hitting the humid air of South Florida definitely was a change from the aridity of Phoenix. It didn’t take long to get my rental car at Hertz. It’s a Mitsubishi Mirage with Tennessee plates.

Since driving on I-95 would be too crowded at rush hour, I took U.S. 1 down past Dania Beach and Hollywood and Hallandale Beach into Aventura.

In a way, the 17 months that have gone by since I last was in South Florida seemed like no time at all. Everything here seems so familiar.

When I got to Aunt Sydelle’s condo, I kept hugging her, and I hugged Frank as well. Last year at this time, they were visiting Scottsdale, but I felt too ill to see them.

Just as I felt before last April that I’d never again see Teresa in New York, before today I thought I’d never see Aunt Sydelle in Florida again.

We hung out talking, and I had to say I was just joking about my being 50 – I forgot Aunt Sydelle is supposed to be younger – and I told them about Arizona and my family and my job interview.

It doesn’t seem quite so scary now that I’m in Florida. Anyway, I need to give myself time to enjoy it here before I start ruminating.

We went out to the deli in Aventura, where I had a vegetable cutlet, kasha with bows, and pickled beets on the side. It felt odd but comforting to be in such a New York Jewishy restaurant, where I saw Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray soda for the first time in years.

Our talk over dinner made me like Frank a lot. Afterwards, we drove back to Coronado, and then I followed Frank here.

He showed me everything in the apartment, like the glasses he keeps over drains in sinks in order to keep palmetto bugs away. Frank got me skim milk and bananas and orange juice, so I’m set for the morning.

It’s wonderful that I don’t have to spend my money on a motel, but I’ll be spending a lot more time on this with Sydelle and Frank than I would have otherwise.

Of course, it’s nice to hear Sydelle reminisce about Dad’s birth – she did the Charleston for the nurses so she could get in to see him and Grandma Sylvia, who had spent the day of the birth at the beach in Coney Island – and other stuff in our family’s past.

I don’t know if I’ll sleep tonight. Right now it’s 11 PM, though of course it seems like only 8 PM to me. I need to brush my teeth, but I’ve left one suitcase on the floor still unpacked, and that has my toothbrush in it.

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Saturday, October 20, 2001

10:30 PM. Last night I slept well, waking up refreshed at 6 AM. Of course, if I were in Arizona, it would be 3 AM. Maybe my body is meant to be on Eastern Time.

Today I had two panic attacks brought on by nausea. They were the old-fashioned panic attacks I’d get as a teenager.

First I got nauseated around noon, in the Barnes & Noble in Plantation and then driving back to North Miami beach in a pouring rain. I thought I would vomit but knew I probably wouldn’t. Later in the afternoon, I had the same feeling while walking on the Lincoln Road Mall.

It’s possible I’ve got a stomach virus, of course. I had nauseated days at the end of June just after I arrived on Long Island from Chicago and then again at Teresa’s, a few days before I headed back to Arizona.

Right now I don’t really feel queasy. For dinner, I had a veggie burger with Aunt Sydelle and Frank at the Flashback Diner on U.S. 1 across from Gulfstream Park in Hallandale. Maybe I’ll get sick during the night.

I did take an Ativan as I drove home from South Beach at 5 PM, going on the 79th Street Causeway and then up Biscayne Boulevard to Aunt Sydelle’s.

I hope the panic attacks are not a sign that I’m going to be fighting a whole new anxiety symptom.

More likely, I’m either having an emotional reaction to the enormity of being back in Florida or I have some kind of 24-hour bug. Possibly it’s jet lag, eating different food, or even a reaction to the flu shot I got it Publix at the Skylake Mall at 10 AM after I noticed they were giving flu shots for $15.

Back at Frank’s this morning, I did impromptu exercises – shadow boxing, push-ups, triceps work, stomach crunches – and I really sweated.

It’s hard to get used to the steaminess and humidity of South Florida. I guess I’ve become accustomed to the dryness of Arizona. Even Arkansas wasn’t this humid.

When I left the Publix at Skylake, I drove up I-95 and across I-595, getting off at College Avenue in Davie.

The Nova campus is in shambles because of the construction of the three-story parking lot and the new six-story Library and Information Center, both of which were scheduled to open last month but which have obviously been delayed.

At the law school, I walked around trying to familiarize myself with the building.

The ARP bulletin board downstairs in the classrooms wing just had a notice about Mercy Moore’s writing workshops. She’s giving one on Monday at 4 PM, and I think I’m going to try to attend if she will let me.

I also saw the administrative wing, which was locked, and I got a feel for the faculty offices on the second floor and the offices, classrooms and bulletin boards on the first floor.

I’ll have to call to find out where to park and where to go when I first come in, as their schedule has me being picked up at the hotel.

I walked over to the Parker Building, where I worked for three years, and that felt a little eerie; there were new professors’ names on the Liberal Arts Division board.

Gary Gerstman, one of the new Legal Studies faculty, was talking to a student in the office I had that one year when I was a visiting professor teaching mostly Constitutional History.

Seeing that made me feel weird. I wondered if I don’t really belong at Nova after all. Maybe that sinking feeling caused my queasiness and panic attack?

I called Patrick’s house from the pay phone at the Plantation Barnes & Noble. His daughter answered the phone and said she thought he was at the office, but when I called at BCC-South, Patrick’s answering machine picked it up there and I didn’t leave a message.

Instead, I had iced tea, confirming that yes, all the Barnes & Nobles have gone to a new menu with Starbucks tall/grande /venti iced tea sizes. The grande, same as the old size, now costs more money.

The flavor of iced tea that I got was horribly sour, and after phoning Sydelle, I began to feel sick. But by the time I got back here at The Moorings, my nausea had subsided.

I read yesterday’s and today’s New York Times, skimming most articles, and I had my usual cheese sandwich, microwaved frozen veggies and frozen fruits.

At 3:30 PM, I decided to see Miami Beach, but the traffic was horrendous because of construction, and by the time I got to Lincoln Road, I needed a bathroom badly and started to feel that nauseated panic as I walked along the mall.

So I really couldn’t enjoy being in Miami Beach. Maybe tomorrow I’ll stick closer to home.

Frank said he may come here to sleep tonight, as his snoring keeps Aunt Sydelle awake.

I enjoyed going out with them for dinner tonight and hearing family stories. Aside from my parents and brothers, I don’t have much – okay, any – extended family.

Everything in Florida seems familiar, and I like seeing all the old Jewish New Yorkers around here. But traffic is really bad, a lot worse than Phoenix, and of course I’m not accustomed to so much rain.

But just as I felt comfortable in Los Angeles, Chicago, Philadelphia, New York and Arkansas, I feel relaxed here, like I am again living, however temporarily, in familiar South Florida.

But I wonder if I can go home again.

They must have been having some kind of program at the law school today, and I felt funny because I was in my t-shirt and shorts while everybody else in the building was dressed up.

Do I want a job where I’ll have to wear a suit and tie and dress shoes every day? At the University of Florida when I worked at CGR, I could get away with more informal dress.

Shepard Broad Law Center seems very corporate, even more so than UF Law. I don’t know that I’d fit in to the culture there, but I can’t really judge it on a Saturday.

Well, look, if I get the job, it’s meant to be. If not, I meant to do something else – maybe work on my writing more.

No matter if I get really sick over the next few days, it was worth it to get back to Florida if only to see my old stomping grounds and spend time with Aunt Sydelle and Frank.

Instead of newspapers, hawkers are now selling American flags at big intersections like University Drive and I-595 in Davie.

Today we launched the first ground assault in Afghanistan and have already taken casualties.

Anthrax spores are turning up everywhere.

My anxiety is now fashionable in today’s world.