There are several alternate titles I could've given this entry: "The horns of a dilemma." "A rock and a hard place." And so on . . .

We went house-hunting yesterday in that city where I work, and found something we both love, in an area we've not lived in before, around the corner from some tennis courts, within biking distance of work for me, and near a grocery store and also pretty near a really good bookstore (but that's across a busy street and in a plaza, so it would mean driving, alas). And I also learned that I can indeed buy an alumni pass to the university outdoor pool, which I didn't think I could do. (This is a huge lifestyle consideration for me, as strange as that may sound. Obviously it could never be a deciding factor in a major decision that has so many other elements, but not being able to swim outdoors in the summer would be a huge loss to me.)

However, I also have a job interview at another school that's much closer to here. That job would pay more than my present one, and with summer teaching, it would mean enough to live on if we downsized a bit (whereas with my present job I can't get that kind of summer teaching - is this good or bad, I wonder??). That other job would also entail teaching literature courses as well as writing courses (but might mean teaching five courses, I don't know yet). It would also mean that I could enroll in a pension plan, rather than my current retirement scheme, which is savings-based. Staying here would mean that I can continue to work the possibilities, and I might actually end up working in town here. Certainly there are more opportunities here than in the city where I currently work.

More opportunities for Emil, too. He's applied for probably a dozen jobs around here (no nibbles on any of them, alas), whereas in the same amount of time, he's only seen postings for two in that city to the north of us. Of course, if he'd gotten one of those dozen, he'd be commuting to the Detroit suburbs now, as will I if I get that other job . . .

Too many cars. Too much traffic. And we'd never move closer to work: I don't like suburbs of big cities; I lived in one for seventeen years, which is certainly long enough to know. Living in the Detroit suburbs corresponds roughly to my idea of hell.

But staying here, well. They don't call this place "seven square miles surrounded by reality" for nothing. When we lived in Erie I used to wonder if I really disliked Erie or whether I liked it more than I realized. From the day we moved here, I've known: I love it here. Not for a minute, not for a second, not for a nanosecond have I thought or felt otherwise. Although I do note that as it's gotten increasingly urban and yuppified, I've been a bit disconcerted. I don't have to share those yuppie values - and in many ways, I don't (although in many ways I do, let's be honest) - but sometimes it's hard to be around people who have so much more than we do, and who value achievement so much more than we do. (I don't value achievement, exactly; I value education and learning and knowledge-making, and that's a very different thing. Here, all that is tied up with big houses and big cars and big research grants from drug companies . . . ) At the same time, I must admit, rich people do create very pleasant, safe communities.

And if we move, Emma will be severely unhappy. I know that her happiness can't be a deciding consideration; she's seventeen and soon will be old enough to make her own way. Whether she'll be equipped to do so is another matter - and, oddly enough, almost another reason to move: She needs to figure out that if she doesn't take some responsibility for steering her life, she'll get dragged by the current and end up places she really doesn't want to be. But I do feel that every major change we've made has happened just a little too early for her, starting with the move to Erie. If you transplant plants at the wrong time, you stunt their growth. Sometimes I wonder if that isn't what's happened to her already . . . And even if it's not, if we move, the next year is going to be a pain in the arse; she's not going to be happy and her unhappiness will certainly have an effect on the rest of us. (Of course, if things get really bad, I can just go in to the office for a while! :)

And then there's that fear of commitment, or what have you. I'm two years in to my probationary period at my current job; after next year, I'll be on a continuing contract. I feel fairly certain that I'll be continued. However, I have been in a situation before where I thought I would achieve permanent status (ie, tenure), and it didn't happen. This situation is very different: My colleagues really like me and I like them, the teaching is good, I actually find that I want to go in to the office and I wish I was closer so I could take advantage of on-campus events like the summer theatre program, but . . . once burned, twice shy; what can I say? I expect to be very nervous next year, and if we've moved and committed ourselves to that other city, I'll be even more so, especially because if things don't work out, that other city doesn't offer many other options. I always say that if I were an animal, I'd have to be an animal that has two doors to its home; I always need an exit strategy in order to feel comfortable, whether I intend to exit or not.

Basically, I've (we've) been oscillating back and forth between the two scenarios. The energy required to oscillate is really getting to me. I have two weeks before my interview; but we've found a house now (and we don't want to lose it). I'm tempted to just throw in the towel and say, ah, hell, let's get packing. I don't know if that feeling is based on really wanting that choice, or whether I just want to be done with it all.

Anyhow, I'm soliciting advice . . . you can post here or send me email. (Peter, if you check my previous comments, you'll get my current email address . . . )

Now, back to oscillating . . .