Let's Have Our Mid-Semester Freakout Early, Shall We?
I wish I could say I have exciting news or profound thoughts about writing or teaching but I've hit that mid-semester wall of grading and deadlines for various things (sabbatical application, paper for conference) and it's just been a bit of a grind lately. I had to put my books and my writing aside for the moment because every morning I'm getting up early to do damage control.
It's not great.
Today I have two meetings in the morning and then I intend to divide my time between that Very Important For My Professional and Personal Sanity Sabbatical Application and the 30 lbs of grading I have stacked in a tote in my living room. That's right -- I have a small-child's worth of grading to do this weekend. The worst thing is that some of it IS graded but has to be entered into my online grade books in Blackboard, and everything is so jumbled together from being carted between classroom and office and home repeatedly that it will take at least an hour to make sense of it all.
I'm a mess. Surprising, yes?
I continue to collect rejections but I haven't had time to think about submitting so the list of what's out there becomes smaller and smaller.
My house looks like a Target or a Walmart just threw up all over itself. Shit everywhere.
One of my former teachers at NYU, Philis Levin, is reading her work at the Folger at the end of the month, and I want so badly to be able to go. But it's in D.C. on, like, a Monday and that same week I'm flying to Columbus, OH for a talk at SECAC (Southeastern College Art Conference), so I really can't afford to blow off class and get the fuck off Long Island and travel to see her.
I was off Long Island last weekend for my nephew's baptism and it was lovely.
Anyway. Minor tantrums about being stuck here and unable to go to poetry readings aside, things are okay. There's enough bad shit going on in the world to give me a decent amount of perspective. I have it pretty good, for all my craziness. It's all frantic harried soccer mom bullshit, really.
It's not great.
Today I have two meetings in the morning and then I intend to divide my time between that Very Important For My Professional and Personal Sanity Sabbatical Application and the 30 lbs of grading I have stacked in a tote in my living room. That's right -- I have a small-child's worth of grading to do this weekend. The worst thing is that some of it IS graded but has to be entered into my online grade books in Blackboard, and everything is so jumbled together from being carted between classroom and office and home repeatedly that it will take at least an hour to make sense of it all.
I'm a mess. Surprising, yes?
I continue to collect rejections but I haven't had time to think about submitting so the list of what's out there becomes smaller and smaller.
My house looks like a Target or a Walmart just threw up all over itself. Shit everywhere.
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| This guy makes things better. |
One of my former teachers at NYU, Philis Levin, is reading her work at the Folger at the end of the month, and I want so badly to be able to go. But it's in D.C. on, like, a Monday and that same week I'm flying to Columbus, OH for a talk at SECAC (Southeastern College Art Conference), so I really can't afford to blow off class and get the fuck off Long Island and travel to see her.
I was off Long Island last weekend for my nephew's baptism and it was lovely.
Anyway. Minor tantrums about being stuck here and unable to go to poetry readings aside, things are okay. There's enough bad shit going on in the world to give me a decent amount of perspective. I have it pretty good, for all my craziness. It's all frantic harried soccer mom bullshit, really.
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