I try not to think about my own life too much because I have a tendency to feel guilty for my happiness. Here is a case in point: about a year and a half ago, the position I was teaching in at the community college where I work was change from adjunct to full-time. That meant that a national search had to be conducted. There was a chance I would not get the job because someone better qualified could get it and then I would be out of a job. Over 70 people, some with PhDs, applied for the position. I have an MFA, a terminal degree, but it is still only a master's degree. Three finalists were chosen for an interview; I was one of them. I'm told that one of the finalists, a guy who had a PhD and several years worth of experience teaching at a university, flew all the way from the east coast to interview for the position. But he didn't get the job; I did, in part because I had already built up relationships with students and faculty members and was doing a satisfactory job in the classroom. I was happy to get the job, but sad for this other nameless person whose hopes were drown indirectly by me. I could have been on his end of things and not gotten the job and wasted all that time and money flying to some little rural town just to be turned away.

Besides a good job, I have a great family. Elizabeth and I didn't know each other that well before we got married. We thought we did, but looking back at our first year of marriage, when we both felt misunderstood and frustrated, we really weren't that acquainted with each other. But for many years since then, we have been really happy together. Why? I'm not sure, but just about every other couple I'm familiar with is teetering on the edge of divorce, living with disdain, frustration, power struggles, fear, intimidation, jealousy, spite. Why did I get to end up with a really cool wife? I don't know, but I rarely admit to anyone how in love I am with Elizabeth because I'm afraid they might think I'm gloating.

I haven't used the word "rad" for a long time, but I've got a pretty rad kid. Sonora is funny, loving, insightful, smart, unique, independent but not defiant, creative but not obnoxious, interested but not clingy. Some people at church don't enjoy her as much as I do, because she hasn't gotten the whispering thing down very well and is sometimes loudly observant of the people around her, but I think she is funny. There aren't very many parents who think their kids suck, so I don't have to feel very guilty about loving my daughter, but I try to downplay my admiration of her, just in case. However, an area where many people, especially dads, lack, is time. For about eight weeks each quarter, I don't have much time to spend with Sonora, but the rest of the time, I get to spend a lot of time with her: going for walks, poking around in the garden, looking at the stars, chasing each other around the house, putting together puzzles, stalking cats. I know that many parents hurt when they think about the time they can't spend with their kids; I feel that pain when I get really busy grading essays, preparing for class, and doing all that Scout Master stuff (I'm the Scout Master of our troop and I don't like how much time it takes) and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, so I try very hard not to rub in anyone's face how much time I regularly get to spend with my daughter. Also, we have friends who can't have children, and friends who are not married but would like to be. I don't know why Elizabeth and I have a kid and another on the way. I'm very glad for us, though I'm sad for those whose dreams go unfulfilled in this regard. Sometimes I feel a wave of depression when I realize everything other people don't have.

We just bought our first house and while it is little according to highly inflated American standards, it is a great place. Truth be told, our 1,000 square foot home is more than we need. It overwhelms me when I let my mind dwell even for a moment on the luxuries I've come to regard as basic services, when I realize with how little most people in the world make do. Nearly every day when I return home, I swell with affection for our house and the land it sits on. It's not much to look at, but it takes really good care of us. Here is a link to a couple of pictures of the place taken last November: http://picasaweb.google.com/JoalDLee.

I suppose it does not much good to fret about what others don't have; my mom once told me that if I can do something about a situation, I should do something. Otherwise I shouldn't worry about it. That is easier said than done because I cherish gratitude, and situational myopia--blocking out the situations of other people--is antithetical to thankfulness. I wish gratitude didn't hurt. I also wish others had those relationships, homes, jobs, educational opportunities, monetary resources, and experiences that would make them happy.