Before Friday - A few photos

The batteries in my camera died the first night I got here. I was able to take a picture of my room before I cluttered it up - it's a compulsion. I arrive and make messes, try as I might to stay neat and tidy. But I did a little shopping this morning, picking up birthday gifts for Carrie as we do a nifty exchange every year now. I also found batteries on sale so I replaced the dead ones and wanted to show you at least a little of this hotel I love.

I'm up very high in a room all by myself. So high that when I press my button in the elevator, people glance at me and wonder if I'm somehow important. I smile mildly at them, grateful they're stopping midway up the building. Otherwise my ears don't quite pop, but they feel the pressure from the quick ascent. The one lovely part about being up here - for my view is not very good - is that I can see the architectural details that aren't so visible from the ground. So I figured out how to open my window today, knelt on my floor, and carefully took several pictures of the arch and columns and embellishments. It's just all so elegant - I really do like it here.

I was thinking that my scientific career could very well be bookended by stays in this very building. That my first poster was carried from a room downstairs through the path that I've walked the last few days as I've attended what could be my last conference as an active scientist.

I wondered when I got here if I just loved it the first time because staying in a hotel for free was new to me. I rather loved the idea that my department was funding the trip and could spend long moments just gazing at the lighting in the lobby. I remember peeking down the spiral staircase and sitting on one of the comfortable chaise lounges in the mezzanine to just soak in the murmur of voices and clicking of shoes on the gleaming floors on the main levels. I sat there again today, turning off the flash of my camera, knowing the picture would likely be blurry but the colors would be closer to reality. I still find it lovely here though - not that I could afford it on my own, but I somehow relax when I walk through the doors. I feel important as I look at the fixtures and carpets and polished railings.

Perhaps it's the contrast of the situation. At the meeting, I feel small and lost and a bit pathetic. I take a deep breath before I greet anyone. But I brace myself, paste on a smile and move toward people who I knew in grad school or met on interviews. I say that I'm fine, thank you, and, yes, I am looking for jobs. Of course it will be fine. Fine, fine, fine.

Though I have been careful to take a pill every day, I'm watching for signs of increasing depression. I tend to feel a lot safer when the door of my room creaks closed behind me. When it's quiet and I can try to distract myself from all that stuff down the street - jobs and science and papers and projects. I can stare at the flowers and bows on the wallpaper while I think through other people's problems. I can sleep and hope some solution occurs to my subconscious while I rest. I run my fingertips up and down the silky braiding at the edge of my duvet and sigh while I wonder what I'm going to do next. If there's going to be this euphoric relief when I get an offer and pounce on it like a rabid hyena. The thoughts stop there in terms of what comes next - doing another post-doc would seem to indicate I'm preparing for a faculty position I don't think I want. I have friends who would hire me, but those options would involve moving farther away. If that's what it comes down to, shouldn't I try to stay where I am? But is that even possible?

I don't usually go much farther than that. Today, for example, I ran a bath and dumped in half a bottle of the complimentary shower gel and smiled when the bubbles mounded atop the oddly-blue water. I tried to take a picture but I couldn't get enough contrast - everything was too white or too pale blue. I looked around for something to place in the water, snorted at the very idea of posting a picture of me in a bathtub on my blog and shrugged. I finally eased into the hot pool of water, wiggled my toes as they stretched to one end of the curving enclosure and giggled when the bubbles came up to my head as the water level rose around my shoulders. I scooped them from around my ears and tossed them into the water in front of me, then picked up my manuscript off the floor and started to edit as the pages grew floppy and heavy with the moisture from my hands.

The only way out is forward - I know that. And while it's true that I'm incredibly good at avoiding what I don't wish to face, I do recognize that I'll soon have to make some choices. But while I wait just a little longer to hear back from those jobs I want, I'm going to admire pretty buildings, order room service once more and stare into a tub full of popping bubbles while they swirl around me or gaze out the window at the green stains on those pretty arches and columns.

I would say that I wish you were here, but in a way, you have been. I'm reaching the point where I feel badly enough about the job situation that I'm replying to any inquiries with a requisite 'Fine! Everything's fine!' because I don't know what to say and I'd rather not talk about it. So having this space to complain and whine and be honest about doing all the wrong things at this meeting and getting such lovely comments in return has been profoundly soothing. I may feel small and lost and pathetic, but I do not feel at all alone. I'm not sure how to thank you for that, but if I think of a way to let you know how meaningful it is, I'll be sure to let you know.