an office of her own [the move to Denver, beginning this blog to do the "REVERB" writing challenge, which I obvi failed to finish]

At the request of a colleague and friend, I'm participating in:

#REVERB10

The idea: respond to a prompt every day, in order to help you reflect on the past year and manifest for the next one.

Today's prompt:

December 1 One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?

My word is "working."

Here's why. In 2009, after 3 years of 20+ interviews in the overly glutted market of the Bay Area, I moved to Denver for the ever-coveted full-time college teaching gig. I landed at a wonderful little school in the area, full of open-hearted, dedicated, brilliant people. For the first time in my employed life, I will receive a W-2 from only one employer. Every single day that I go to work, I experience a deep joy and appreciation. Mostly, though, I'm not thinking about the ease of only one W-2 or the wonderful coworkers. Mostly, I'm just grateful for something quite material, perhaps overly specific and not too dignified to admit.

God, I love my office. For this little square area I get to call all my own. Adorned with my friends' artwork. The collage box Margaret made, the endless photos by Amber. At my office, they surround me and I am near to them, though they are far away. I love the cozy little table, and the intimacy it encourages. Where just today I discussed the idea of eye gazing (as it appears in his research essay on love), and there we were, my student and I, in this cutely awkward moment, both overly conscious of our eyes meeting or not meeting.

Of course, it ain't perfect. The damn heavy, track-set door sticks. Often the lock breaks. A bolt is missing from the handle. Those quirks aside: a room of her own. I've finally got mine.

I have so many memories already associated with this space.

-First day on the job, spying a piece of art about to be thrown away in the basement, asking if I could save it, and then the darling custodian, Jack, offering to hang it for me. [I am relatively certain that I did not consciously bat my eyelashes to achieve this offer, but when your Aunt Evelyn teaches you how to do that at the age of 11, you can't exactly turn it off, now can you?]

-Last day on the job Spring, '10, the conclusion of my first full year, after receiving a solid evaluation from my supervisor, and deciding to pump my Emancipator Pandora station and host a dance party of one (with an occasional second person joining in).

I love that my memories of the space reflect what I strive for as the best manifestation of my self: someone who can go after what she wants, enjoy it once she gets it, and give something worth having to others in the process. That's been my intention for 2010, and so far, it's working for me.

Other notable reasons I chose "working": I have been working hard to further my emotional growth, focusing specifically on one key concept, "it ain't always about me." This does not just refer to the idea that I shouldn't be so selfish, but that people's negative comments or actions don't usually have much to do with me, but are more often a sign of where they're at and what they're going through. The phrase reminds me to have empathy and compassion. I am also working to be the best mother I can be and the best romantic partner I can be and the best friend I can be. At its best, the work feels like play. At its worst, well, I feel I should be getting paid overtime.

Next year's word... hm, this part feels odd. I don't want to have an expectation (another thing I'm working on). My first instinct was to type: fruition, as in reaping what I've sown, but you know, I think those two are inseparable. I'm reaping what I sow in real time, right now, even as I type and you read this.