Once upon a time, in a previous life, I felt like I had things pretty-much put together: my professional life was really settling into a nice little groove, I had dreams of a return to academia in the hazy future, and my social life held great promise as I continued to familiarize myself with the Centre of the Universe.
Then, I went to Queen's for two years. Things were great, and I got to throw off the shackles of being a 9-to-5'er (or, really, an 8-to-5'er with homework) for a while. I met a lot of great people, I studied things which were interesting to me, and I began a thesis research project that, while nearly escorting me into clinical insanity at times, will be my most formidable academic accomplishment... someday.
I returned to Toronto in May, and things have been... well, motley. (But not "Mötley" like the "Crüe.") For May and early June I was busy doing family-related stuff in amongst the general re-settling-in; in late June I went away to Bonnaroo (which was great) and was doing some work-related stuff, both in preparation for the summer and for something else our school is cooking up. July absolutely suuuuuuuucked, as teaching summer school was a terrible way to earn enough money for rent. August was full of thesis-related bullshit all over the place; also, add to that the fact that I was getting jerked-around by whatever women who happen to briefly, briefly cross my path, and my lone male-gendered sounding-board for such matters happened to be in Central America for both July and August. September was crazy-busy, trying to get back into the routine of being a regular teacher again and dealing with a new course, and it seems like every other weekend since Labour Day I've been galavanting all over the province, doing this or that or the other, often relating to family stuff (again). October has been (and I imagine November will be) mired in meeting after meeting after meeting, robbing me of what little sanity I've managed to stick underneath my mattress (which isn't getting much use these days, and that's part of the problem, I suppose).
If you're keeping score at home, this is my sixth month in Toronto, and I still don't feel like I've planted my feet on the ground, haven't re-established myself, haven't been able to get my shit together the way I'd like it to be. If you know me, that is not how I live my life: my shit is toooGETHaaaah, and if it isn't, I am one unhappy camper.