Trailer Wife

To be perfectly honest, I have no idea if this photo was taken at sunset or sunrise. We took several walks last week and this shot was one of many orangey sherbet skylines we captured. The sun will rise today at 10:20 AM and set at 3:00 PM, leaving us with 4 hours of dawn/dusk, and about 40 minutes of real light. When we talk to Fairbanksans who know that this is our first winter, they always ask about how we're dealing with the gloom.

Sam has a full-spectrum light in his office to boost his B vitamins, but so far (knock on wood) I haven't felt a real need for light supplements. Maybe it's just that I've been rather gloomy on the inside, so that the outside light, as meager as it is, is something of an improvement?

I've made the decision that the first six months of any transition sucks. Full stop. And if you're a small town girl stuck in a naive haze of nostalgia-laced dementia, this six months can seem like an eternity. The truth is, our life in Fairbanks is pretty good. Yes, it could be better. But we have some pretty great prospects here, and if only we can get a jump on things like credit card debt and a united parenting philosophy, we will actually resemble real-life adults soon.

And real-life adults have to make practical, real-life decisions. One of the things that has been plaguing me over the last few months is my decision to do a creative writing MFA here at the University. When we were in Scotland, it seemed like such a great idea (and as they do, ideas seem so much greater the further they are removed from action). But the application deadline is looming, and I'm starting to have second thoughts. Is it wise to spend three years paving a career path that will surely dead-end in Fairbanks? Not many Universities hire alumni with no post-degree credentials as professors. And what else does an MFA stand for than "unemployable?" And maybe that wouldn't matter so much if money weren't an issue or I didn't want to work... but I WANT a career. Not a job. There is a big difference, I think.

I can't help but guess that lots of women go through this... even women who don't have kids and partners and far-northern-addresses to think about. "What do I want to be when I grow up." When does this question really get answered? I used to resent friends in medical school or law school who would smugly state that they'd known what they wanted to be since first grade. But what I really felt was envy. How easy it would be to have some predestined purpose mapped out in infancy. To never question whether or not you'd really be happy as an accountant, painter, dietitian, etc.

But here I am again, asking that stupid question. Is it better to go for what you love and desire, or for what makes sense? The scripted answer is A - of course you must do what your heart longs to do, right? But life is complicated, people. And sometimes love or passion or whatever you want to call it does not overcome all obstacles. I feel paralyzed, stuck in the strange nexus of these two directions.

So... to be a writer and bumble my way toward some kind of meaningful work, or to be something else. High school teacher, scrub nurse, state trooper (hi Heidi), bartender, gold miner, restaurant owner, prize-pumpkin grower. If you could start over, without any consequences, what would you choose to be? (Me: Bank-robber)

As I've been writing this post, the sun has actually risen. Soft, blue light still clings to the earth but the horizon is pink-tinted, with wispy clouds in a (gasp!) clear blue sky. Gus just woke from his nap and is chatting happily to himself in his crib. It's a whopping 35 degrees outside and there is eggnog for my coffee. Not bad.