happy; unhappy

Happiness is finishing a full draft of a conference paper paper -- over a week late, but finished nonetheless. Extra happiness is having a friend look over it while I was in the shower and find that it made something of a coherent argument.

Unhappiness is saying goodbye. I took M to the airport this morning, and now, despite the fact that Gabs is still full of people I love and things I enjoy, I am heartbroken. I don't know when, if ever, I'll get to live in the same city as M and have fabulous conversations over leisurely lunches again. I haven't given up hope, though: I'm still rooting for him to do his residency in Chicago.

But now it's on to the next paper. (Yes, I am a paper machine these days.) And this week there will be more goodbyes I have to say. 'Tis the season, I guess, and all of this is in some way a preparation for my own impending departure. I say that as if I were on my way out the door. I'm not, but I can feel myself beginning to reorient my thinking, and it's enough to sadden and alarm and excite me all at once.