p.s., The baby's doing fine. Her phe levels are falling slightly as a result of the formula we've added to her diet, so that's a great sign. And she continues to gain weight at a very healthy rate. I think she's smiling now, too, or at the very least consciously trying on her smile, to see how it suits her. She has this very cute, very aware look that she'll give me when I'm changing her that my wife has noticed as well (so it's not just my imagination). I can't believe that Andriana will be a month old already come this Monday. Those milestones really do come and go...

...and speaking of milestones, I can't believe I let another one slip unnoticed. The beginning of this week marks five full years of employment here at the library. Well, unofficially, that is. Harvard found me through a temp agency, so in truth I was working on their payroll until November 1st, 1998, when I officially donned the Crimson and got my union card; but as far as the facts on the ground are concerned, I've been here at the Countway for five years as of last Monday. I have mixed feelings about this anniversary, as well as the one in November, whenever either of them come around. The library has been nothing but good to me, and I've taken full advantage of my ability to pluck any book from any library in the world at any time and read it for my own enjoyment and edification, the health benefits are great (as are the education bennies, which sadly I haven't had the time to explore), and we even get an extra week off around the holidays on top of an already-generous bank of vacation time. So why have the yearly reminders of my time spent here tended to fill me with dread and not a sense of gratitude or accomplishment? I guess I always thought of this job as a temporary gig, something I'd do to connect the dots and then move on to bigger and better things, so the second Monday in May and the first day of November always stuck out as twin monuments to my continued inability to accomplish something meaningful.

Note however the use of the perfect and past tenses. I didn't even notice that it was the anniversary of my arrival here this time around at first. And look - no dread! How did this transformation occur? Am I suddenly reconciled to my life here? Have I finally had the epiphany that a steady paycheck, benefits, and a week in Maine every summer is more than enough to be thankful for - especially now that I have a kid in tow?

In a word, no. Although it's great to have a union job in these anti-labor days, and to be employed by none other than Harvard University during these anti-humanity days, I'm more resolved than ever to get the fuck out of here. I'm even on a schedule. As of today, I have 170 days until my official fifth anniversary, a day on which I'm going to move heaven and earth not to still be here working at the library. My writing continues at a furious pace, and with every thousand words I peck out in the morning and every thousand in the evening, I get that much closer to finishing another short story, another chapter of the novel. I will finish my book by the end of the summer, I can feel it. I broke the 20,000 word mark on Monday (another happy milestone), and am halfway to 25k now. I love writing. Few things get my sleep-deprived behind out of bed and headed to work in the morning better than the thought that I'll have an hour-long uninterrupted writing session on the commuter train into Boston - longer, if the schedule is backed up. This is the thing that I want to do every morning, not just during my otherwise empty travel time. But patience. Change may be sudden, but it is put into effect by gradual, almost imperceptible actions. A thousand words here, a chapter there, and some day I'll be looking at a finished manuscript for the novel that's been kicking around my head for over ten years, mocking me for my failure to ensnare it with words and bring it out into the real world for everyone else to see. Time's running out, it would taunt. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Well, I finally made the realization this week that time is indeed running out - only not for me. My book is perhaps a quarter, perhaps a fifth in the bag now, but the important thing is that there's a bag, and this thing is slowly, surely going into it. What a thrill that is.

I can't wait until this November...