when I think about it, the time when my interest in my job really started failing was a year and a half ago when my labor union went on strike. by virtue of a slightly miscast job title, I am a member of the clerical workers union. labor conscious as my office is, I was encouraged to take leave during the week-long strike. at the start I was there on the picket line with all the secretaries, with whom I only somewhat felt like I belonged. after a couple of days I started cutting out to go home and get the lunch special at the chinese place by my apartment and catch the two o'clock airing of kids in the hall. I sewed myself a new swimsuit instead of marching to the university president's office. I felt reminded of how all the groups and titles I end up in feel like an ill fit. while it's not always bad to feel that way, the distance between contented rogue and weary pariah is often not that far.

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because I was in a bad mood and wanted to prove something, I biked ten miles through the dark under the train tracks last night. all the way home from almost richmond. this was neither very safe nor very wise, but as a rule I am not safe or wise when I am angry.