Summer Stats and Cautious Optimism for the New Semester
This is the last weekend of freedom before the new school year begins. I went into the office yesterday to clean it out -- there was so much junk stashed everywhere from last year's drop-and-run. I would come into the office with one pile of folders and books, place them on a desk or a table, and then pick up another pile of folders and books, and run off again. When I did work in the office it was often between columns of stacked files and assignments and general clutter.
I don't really want to do that again, if I can avoid it -- so I had a "purge day" wherein I went through all of the stacks and sorted through what needed to be filed and what needed to be recycled. When I left yesterday I had three or four boxes/bags of material to be recycled (which I'm doing at home because I don't trust that the school genuinely recycles -- I've watched our janitorial staff combine trash and recycling in the same cart and that's just suspicious . . . I mean, are they really going to go through it later and separate the refuse from the recyclables?) Anyway, I now also have a large pile of papers and folders that have to be filed away, and the files themselves have to be kind of worked-over, decluttered, what have you, but the space is imminently more usable and friendly.
This post is truly riveting so far.
|This silver maple in front of my parents' home is my favorite tree. Ever.|
My end-of-August trip to Virginia was fun and chaotic (because toddlers) and also pretty steamy -- the temps reached the 90s and it was so effing humid. But I managed to go for runs throughout the week, and I also began my mornings by writing before anyone else woke up, so I felt like there was some normalcy and productivity even in the midst of vacation.
The last three months have been really good -- one of the best summers I've had in a long time, and primarily because I didn't have a damn thing planned, aside from the kids' week at camp (glorious! oh the hours of writing time!) and the trips to see my family. I could have done with a little less depression/mood swing nonsense, but I feel like I'm coming out of that somewhat (at least I hope so -- I don't have a lot of patience with myself when I'm mopey).
So -- to sum up -- this summer resulted in:
- 16 new pages of my play, and a significant shift in its structure, from a one-act to a two-act;
- 30 new poems -- 23 of which belong to one emerging manuscript, and 7 which may belong to my collaborative project with M.S.; AND
- 10 new blog posts.
Additionally, I ACTUALLY READ AND FINISHED BOOKS, YOU GUYS. As you may remember from earlier posts, I managed to finish Crapalachia by Scott McClanahan, Bright Dead Things by Ada Limon, and The Halo by C. Dale Young. Just this past week, I finished Her Body and Other Parties by Carmen Maria Machado -- which I am completely in love with. It's the most gorgeous, beautifully weird, moving collection of short stories. Love love love. To the point where I probably won't teach from it because I don't want my students to ruin it for me. But anyway. GET THEE TO A LIBRARY OR BOOKSTORE AND READ THIS BOOK.
Okay. I'm done shouting now.
This weekend we have a bunch of end-of-summer-last-minute-before-school-starts tasks and activities planned, and then *groan* the year begins on Tuesday for me, Wednesday for the kids. (And it will be Vampire Toddler/the New Little Miss Talkalot's first day in Kindergarten, too, which is sad for me and kind of terrifying for her. OH. And I turn 42 next Saturday. So generally trauma all around.) I'm keeping my fingers crossed and hoping that I can maintain my early-morning writing rhythm this semester -- at the very least, for the first month -- and use blocks of time on Fridays (non-teaching days) as space to work on long-form projects, like my plays.
Because eff you, Stuffolk! If you're not gonna give me time to write, I'm going to make time. I wasted too much effort doing your service/committee nonsense for far too long.
(That's what I'd say if they actually cared to ask me. But they don't/won't.)
|My associate and his ball. Behind him is the infamous Intrakat, which The Boy dubbed "InjureKat" after A. busted his shoulder on it.|