Life Part Three
So then Genevra and I decided to get new lives.
Not that we decided this overnight. From the time we began dating in 2002, we discussed the painful finitude of our artistic careers. One imagines that an artist eventually gives up on art because he's tired of rejection. One imagines that an artist wakes up and decides that since he can't do, he'll teach.
Far too simple. I'm sure it happens that way for some people, but doubtful for most.
We each became sick of being theatre artists, of working very hard for very little.
I left the Neo-Futurists. I wrote a blog. I batted business ideas around with my friend Randy semiannually, it seemed. I sold T-shirts on cafepress. Genevra received an inheritance when her nice grandmother, Celia, passed away in June. And then we began to talk. Well, we'd been talking since 2002. And probably talking pretty seriously since 2004, but after Celia died, we talked long and hard.
We talked about a lot of things: Insurance, our COBRA, a second dog, a child, going back to school and for what and who would do it and who would stay home with a baby, buying a house, moving out of town, where to move--my God did we talk about WHERE to move. Over and over again we talked about that and researched. We bought laptops this year, and one was always humming while the TV was on. "What about Paducah, Kentucky?" one of us would ask during an episode of the Daily Show.
And we almost bought a storefront in bluegrass country one day, even made an appointment to see it. Yes. We almost did that. That would have been a cool store.
But we settled and we thought, and a plan began to present itself to us. Celia's passing left us a home in Carbondale, IL, down the street from a university. We wanted to have a baby soon. We didn't know how we were going to afford it. We wanted new careers. We didn't know which ones made the most sense and we were sure we couldn’t have a baby and get new careers at the same time.
But the plan came together on its own and it made sense. And then we made a baby. And when I say we made a baby, I don't mean we decided that we wanted one and then spent six months to a year trying. I don't even mean we spent two months trying. I mean we made up our minds, noticed that Genevra was in fact ovulating at that very moment (we thought) and then BAM. So it took us anywhere from an hour to three or four days to conceive.
Not bad. In order to conceive, a Greek and an Italian apparently need only think about having a baby within two feet of each other.
I shouldn't be telling the world. She's only two months pregnant and we don't yet know if the pregnancy will be viable, but I'm optimistic. We're not naive about the odds, this being her first. But if things don't work out, that's fine. At least we know things work (very well) in the conception department so we'll just try again and hope for similar luck.
We move to Carbondale, IL in one month. I am applying for the creative writing program at SIUC and plan to teach, and not because I can't do, but because I can't stop doing, and don't know that I'd be good at anything else. Genevra will be pursuing some freelance writing online--doing as much as she has time to do with the baby and all. When the baby is a year old, she's going to start grad school and is investigating various Psychology degrees.
And when we've gotten our degrees, we'll relocate.
New house. Rural area. Renovation work. Parenthood. New careers. Even Simon is going to have to learn to use a doggy door and make in the backyard instead of his litter box. Big, fat change. The biggest.
I seriously can't wait.
Not that we decided this overnight. From the time we began dating in 2002, we discussed the painful finitude of our artistic careers. One imagines that an artist eventually gives up on art because he's tired of rejection. One imagines that an artist wakes up and decides that since he can't do, he'll teach.
Far too simple. I'm sure it happens that way for some people, but doubtful for most.
We each became sick of being theatre artists, of working very hard for very little.
I left the Neo-Futurists. I wrote a blog. I batted business ideas around with my friend Randy semiannually, it seemed. I sold T-shirts on cafepress. Genevra received an inheritance when her nice grandmother, Celia, passed away in June. And then we began to talk. Well, we'd been talking since 2002. And probably talking pretty seriously since 2004, but after Celia died, we talked long and hard.
We talked about a lot of things: Insurance, our COBRA, a second dog, a child, going back to school and for what and who would do it and who would stay home with a baby, buying a house, moving out of town, where to move--my God did we talk about WHERE to move. Over and over again we talked about that and researched. We bought laptops this year, and one was always humming while the TV was on. "What about Paducah, Kentucky?" one of us would ask during an episode of the Daily Show.
And we almost bought a storefront in bluegrass country one day, even made an appointment to see it. Yes. We almost did that. That would have been a cool store.
But we settled and we thought, and a plan began to present itself to us. Celia's passing left us a home in Carbondale, IL, down the street from a university. We wanted to have a baby soon. We didn't know how we were going to afford it. We wanted new careers. We didn't know which ones made the most sense and we were sure we couldn’t have a baby and get new careers at the same time.
But the plan came together on its own and it made sense. And then we made a baby. And when I say we made a baby, I don't mean we decided that we wanted one and then spent six months to a year trying. I don't even mean we spent two months trying. I mean we made up our minds, noticed that Genevra was in fact ovulating at that very moment (we thought) and then BAM. So it took us anywhere from an hour to three or four days to conceive.
Not bad. In order to conceive, a Greek and an Italian apparently need only think about having a baby within two feet of each other.
I shouldn't be telling the world. She's only two months pregnant and we don't yet know if the pregnancy will be viable, but I'm optimistic. We're not naive about the odds, this being her first. But if things don't work out, that's fine. At least we know things work (very well) in the conception department so we'll just try again and hope for similar luck.
We move to Carbondale, IL in one month. I am applying for the creative writing program at SIUC and plan to teach, and not because I can't do, but because I can't stop doing, and don't know that I'd be good at anything else. Genevra will be pursuing some freelance writing online--doing as much as she has time to do with the baby and all. When the baby is a year old, she's going to start grad school and is investigating various Psychology degrees.
And when we've gotten our degrees, we'll relocate.
New house. Rural area. Renovation work. Parenthood. New careers. Even Simon is going to have to learn to use a doggy door and make in the backyard instead of his litter box. Big, fat change. The biggest.
I seriously can't wait.
