Saul Bellow's Henderson and my Duchess of Moisture have this, among other things, in common with most of us: They both say "I want, I want." We all want more, and not just money. More time. More respect, etc.

I suppose I'm more lucky than many in my field. In a time when so many of my friends and colleagues can't get full-time, tenure track jobs, when they're exploited as lecturers with no benefits, low salaries, and no security with regards to their job beyond the quarter or semster in which they're teaching, I guess I have it pretty good. But still I want more.

I'd like to teach less composition and more poetry, I'd like to have more flexibility with regard to teaching schedules, I'd like to have less committee work to do, I'd like to have more pay equity with my colleagues who teach in Columbus, etc., etc., bitch and moan, bitch and moan. And though I have a job that allows me more time to write (at least more than I had when I was an exploited lecturer at Cal Poly), I still complain about not getting published more than I am, about not getting more recognition than I have, etc., etc., bitch and moan, bitch and moan.

Even though I'm doing what I pretty much love, by and large, I still complain. "I want, I want." It's such an integral part of our Western mind set. I envy those who are more completely content than me.

I don't know if it will ever stop, Janine (sigh/sniff) .