1. lasting only for a short time; not permanent
2. of brief duration
As I was in transit from Praha to Wien, I thought about how unsettled I have felt this year. I was just leaving a weekend in Prague with Lola, a long-time friend and fellow academic and ex-pat. I have just finished my doctoral degree, she is just starting. Many of our conversations dealt with the Academy, our roles within it, our critiques, what needs to be done to pursue our respective academic careers.
One of the things I had planned for myself for this year after my PhD, and that I have been chiding myself for not doing, was to resume my study of French. I need it for my career. But, sitting on the train, reviewing my travels this year and for next month, I realized that this summer I have only been home in Texas for two-week snatches. The longest I have been in one place in 2014 was the six weeks I was in St Andrews for the latter part of January and February. Six weeks during which I was sorting, packing, throwing my life in boxes and stripping my house bare of my presence in it. Hardly a stable time.
Not only am I in transition – from student to unemployed, from living in Europe to living in the U.S., from living on my own to living with my parents – I have also been transitory. It is no wonder that I have not sat down to incorporate French study into my routine. I have not had a routine.
Come mid-August I might, I hope, will be in one place for a while. No plans for international travel in the near future. And yet I am overdue a visit to South Carolina, to Oklahoma; I have promised to be in Massachusetts in October. 2014 may yet continue to be transitory.