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.