dreaming is free

a busy week of work and study and starting my teaching job. no days off.

Paris has been well behaved as promised. late last week there was still touching and flirtation, but this died down to bland professionalism. in an email i read last night he said he hoped i wasn't uncomfortable working with him. i messaged him to say it's fine, that there is no discomfort, that i was tempted by his proposition but concerned about the possible outcome. he couldn't talk because husband was there. it seems husband is unaware after all. today we will meet for lunch.

i don't need this. i'm moving between wanting him and wanting to run away. i'm not interested in a secret affair which looks like it's the only option. other than nothing. so i'm leaning towards nothing.

but alone with him at lunch i don't know if i can trust myself to say and do the 'right' things. and i'm perplexed as to why this has to be difficult. surely it's a simple matter of yes or no.

all is clouded by my slight exhaustion. my yesterday. my today. my not really knowing where i'm at, but craving some sense of order and quiet.

i've been neglecting my own husband this week, being preoccupied with work, Paris, studies. supervisor tells me i should consider going part-time as i'm only studying half time. this isn't the first time she's said so. but i need the money. and all my jobs are temporary.

other supervisor is taking a break next semester so i'll be left with one mum. today i'm reading the last chapter in the history of sexuality, which she keeps talking about. i'm waiting for something to click as to how i can use this, as to how this rumination of power is appropriate to my study. where does it fit? so i'm reading it on this morning's bus to surry hills. the bus arrives late. the driver appears to be in training. a smelly shampoo woman sits in front of me. a stale tobacco man behind me. then someone watching a noisy phone sits across from me. the 20 minute bus trip takes 40 minutes. mark is waiting. i'm always keeping people waiting. and i'm reading foucault, about power and sex and the vectors through which sexuality became anchored to one's life, or one's right to life. and it's relevant. but it's massive. and i'm not sure where it fits. i suspect it's a pre-cursor to my thesis. i'm yet to finish the chapter.

yesterday i was late to dinner with malcolm. kept him waiting. we had a performance to go to at 8.30pm. kept them waiting also. flustered and angry with myself. feeling like a failure. today's lateness adds another layer to these feelings.

maybe i need to disconnect for a while. relationships are difficult. i want to be at home, reading the paper, laughing at the paper with housemates, fixing food and coffee and making big plans that will never eventuate because they would involve leaving the house.

deborah harry says it best: