It's Friday evening, finally, and I'm at the end of a long week. This morning in my first session talking to an overworked, highly paid banker who has no private life (but was kind enough to give me xmas biscuits) who is paid at least eight times as much as me I thought: today is going to be a long day. This afternoon while looking at a diagram of a militay machine being presented by a student of mine I thought: I can't believe this is my life. Being here for so long is taking its toll, I feel exhausted from fittting in, from daily banging up against difference, from the bruises and bumps I carry around all the time. It's been such a long time since I've heard my old voice, telling a story to a group of friends in a way I used to know. I think it's time to go home for a while.
I thought as I was walking to my bike this morning how much being here has brought me, living in this narrow world of work and weekend has taught me so much about the way I react in situations I never imagined finding myself in. When I'm snubbed in shops, talked around at work, totally over my head, it's all become mundane. Not easy, but predictable.