Mardi Gras has come and gone. And Mardi Gras break is seeping away, too. One perk of working at a school in this city is that Mardi Gras week effectively becomes a second Spring Break, an entire week free in the middle of temperate, breezy February New Orleans. It's a miraculous thing.
But the problem with breaks is that they end. Every break is really best thought of as two wholly distinct spans of time -- nine days off is actually 4.5 days off followed by another 4.5 days off, since traversing that median point transforms everything. The first span is all youth and freedom, fast cars and ballpark hot dogs. The second span is defined by its own mortality, a regret-laden geriatric filled with an accelerating desperation. The end hangs over everything. This is why I always wrap up the last night of every break by lighting votive candles and breaking out my casket for a couple of hours of pensive reclining. It's good luck for the coming week.
It's Thursday and I'm on the downslope now, caroming uncontrollably towards next Monday and trying not to anticipate the humid concrete smell of the hall when I walk through the side entrance past the generic New Orleans high school mural nobody has noticed in years (trumpets, bright colors, fleur del lis). I'll think to myself I'm here again, and then I will be.

Hi Benji,
ReplyDeleteI am only bringing this up because I was just talking with someone about it yesterday.
You said it's Thursday and that you'd be returning to work "next Monday" but even though said Monday is a part of next week, "next Monday" would be referring to the Monday after the coming Monday.
I feel that you probably like to be well-informed so I thought this would be an okay time and place to point that out.
I heard Barry came to visit you, I hope you guys had/are having lots of fun and that halfway through you didn't get tooooooo sad.
P.S. I quoted a piece of your entry in my own blog today. Just the words "The end hangs over everything." :)
-Emma
i had lots of fun. i really, really did. i'd like to live there, but benji keeps trying to convince me not to. also, it turns out that having a house with good insulation does not mean that there aren't regular reminders of how horrible people can be, but sometimes it can mean that you are within walking distance of a whole lot of good stories, the most strikingly attractive and startlingly ugly people you've ever seen, and the best breakfast you're allowed to eat. i didn't even notice the middle until the end.
ReplyDeleteUh oh, a coupla guys from Little Rock forgot to notice a barefooties house-rule!
ReplyDeleteThat casket could have gotten you some serious tail during the Twilight craze. That last movie hasn't come out yet, so there may still be time.
ReplyDeleteI agree. Breaks have the problem of ending. (Or we have the problem that they end, whatever.) I'm pretty convinced that either the work week should be 4 days or that there should be a 3-hour break from 11-2 every workday. You know, just for basic human living. Lunch, a nap, some errand-running. A few fucking hours to catch up or work ahead. Maybe watch a movie. Studies have shown (I hear) that people are willing to work harder if they get lots of breaks and vacations. Nothing makes me want to work less than the feeling that someone is breathing down my neck, wanting me to work every fucking second of a 40 or 50 or 60 hour week. Lemme watch a movie, take a nap, goof off and I will work harder, I think. Or just engage in ranting.
Also, Sammy, how do you feel about that weird-ass mural? It sounds creepy in at least a few ways.
Emma, is it too late to say thank you for this rule? I mean, I don't know that my quality of life has dramatically improved since I've internalized it, but I have been watching my usage since I read your comment a couple of weeks ago.
ReplyDeleteK, do you mean the mural I described in my school, or the picture in the post?
You're welcome!
ReplyDelete