Thursday, November 03, 2005

Fall, leaves, fall

Fall leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

--Emily Bronte


I have a severe case of ennui right now. Nothing that normally gives me pleasure does so. I can’t take any time off until Thanksgiving. The trip to Rome isn’t until March. I’m trying to change jobs, but nothing has come from my efforts so far. A change of some kind would do me good. It’s times like these when I feel acutely how all is vanity—particularly activities like writing and publishing poetry. It bothers me sometimes that I have an insatiable appetite for novelty. I quickly use things up and become bored with them. I wish I could indulge my wanderlust more with trips abroad.


My boss emailed this morning all of us who report directly to her. It is performance appraisal time, and she requested from all of us to send her a list of our accomplishments for the past year and a list of our goals for next year. There is an art to doing the goals list. You have to come up with legitimate goals that will make a difference but be obtainable and not too lofty so that you set yourself up for a ton of extra work or failure.


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