Listening to this and working on a massive presentation for tomorrow, it occurs to me that I am an essentially shallow person. Thinking about things wears me out, and I rarely follow a thought process through to a sound, logical, absolute position. In fact on many subjects I have no absolute position; in many others I have an absolute position unjustified by any apologetic reasoning other than my own gut.
But I have so much homework. And to be honest, the firm establishment of the finer points in my worldview is going to have to wait until Thursday.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Working at Writing
"I want to be able to convey the idea I have in my head right away, and that just doesn't happen."
My roommate said this to me tonight. She's sent me some sketches of hers to look over and critique, which led, of course, to a discussion of writing in general.
I read somewhere that Tolstoy said nothing is worth reading until it has been revised a thousand times. If Tolstoy felt that insecure about his writing, then my need to rewrite is probably somewhere near a trillion. That's precise mathematics at work, people.
I credit my aversion for rewriting with the meagerness of my portfolio. I've written very little. When I do write I find it hard, nearly impossible, to make substantial changes to a "finished" piece. Maybe the years of writing essays for classes, the sense that when something is handed in, it is for all intents and purposes formed permanently, have hardened me into a routine of non-revision. Whatever it is or was, I don't rewrite. And so I don't write. If I can't at once leap to what is in my mind, I give it up for lost.
I wonder what would happen if I didn't?
My roommate said this to me tonight. She's sent me some sketches of hers to look over and critique, which led, of course, to a discussion of writing in general.
I read somewhere that Tolstoy said nothing is worth reading until it has been revised a thousand times. If Tolstoy felt that insecure about his writing, then my need to rewrite is probably somewhere near a trillion. That's precise mathematics at work, people.
I credit my aversion for rewriting with the meagerness of my portfolio. I've written very little. When I do write I find it hard, nearly impossible, to make substantial changes to a "finished" piece. Maybe the years of writing essays for classes, the sense that when something is handed in, it is for all intents and purposes formed permanently, have hardened me into a routine of non-revision. Whatever it is or was, I don't rewrite. And so I don't write. If I can't at once leap to what is in my mind, I give it up for lost.
I wonder what would happen if I didn't?
Sunday, August 29, 2010
the dishwasher hums incessant
and it makes my head spin a little. It's full of the dishes we used last night: five of us consuming stir-fry and rice and then pear tart and ice cream and for whatever reason those meals produce dishes like you would not believe.
Also we played Risk: I won.
And now one half of the sink is gurgling up used rinse-water from the dishwasher and chugging it back down again, like sudsy cud, and suddenly the sound has cut out and my right ear rings with the silence of it.
Not long. The air conditioning has replaced it.
I am curious about silence. Even without the air on, my computer emits noise, and my fingers clack on keys and my neighbors walk up and down and my building creaks and cars drive by...
Perfect stillness? Not something I'd ever achieve.
Back to work. I need to accomplish a Million Things. Schedules and papers and presentations o my! And o, I am feeling the lure of a non-school existence. Silence, siren! I must needs do what is before me.
(also, lookie there, this is my bloggiest year ever. who'd've thought?)
Also we played Risk: I won.
And now one half of the sink is gurgling up used rinse-water from the dishwasher and chugging it back down again, like sudsy cud, and suddenly the sound has cut out and my right ear rings with the silence of it.
Not long. The air conditioning has replaced it.
I am curious about silence. Even without the air on, my computer emits noise, and my fingers clack on keys and my neighbors walk up and down and my building creaks and cars drive by...
Perfect stillness? Not something I'd ever achieve.
Back to work. I need to accomplish a Million Things. Schedules and papers and presentations o my! And o, I am feeling the lure of a non-school existence. Silence, siren! I must needs do what is before me.
(also, lookie there, this is my bloggiest year ever. who'd've thought?)
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Augh
I am enrolled in a class that's more demanding and incomprehensible than anything I've ever taken. And it's not the subject matter, entirely. It's also the professor. For a great deal of my academic career I've gotten by on my ability to pick things up initially quickly and then bluster my way through the rest, charming teachers along the way with eye contact (am I andy bernard?) and generally impeccable grammar.
This will not work for this class.
I'm a bit wigged out.
This will not work for this class.
I'm a bit wigged out.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
El Aguacero
Rain is plummeting towards, pummeling-plashing-pounding my apartment building and probably also the rest of Tulsa. It has been too long, Precipitation.
This is positively the best sort of day to have the sort of day I'm having: an unexpected reprieve from mindless orientation activities, a day alone at the apartment to clean and bake and spend short moments scampering through puddles in order to 1. take out the overflowing (nearly) kitchen trash 2. roll up my car windows (poor upholstery!) 3. check the mail. Punctuated with lightning that barely registers on my dining room wall, held back by the incandescence of indoors, and the far-away snores of thunder; overlaid, of course, with every Chris rice album I have on iTunes (6, not counting the Christmas one).
And to look forward to (like dessert): After the banana muffins emerge sugar-topped and spicy from the oven I will splash to my car and go to purchase necessary things like: toilet paper, and cotton balls, and brown sugar, and butter, and then:
AND THEN--
I will go to Barnes & Noble and buy a new journal.
People give me journals somewhat frequently. At the moment I have three empty ones. But I can't use any of them. One I will never use because I think it is somewhere across the continent and another I would not use of everyday journaling--probably more for writing letters out of--and the third I've begun using for plots and stories and ideas that I am terrible about writing down and thus remembering.
So you see I need a new one. I really do.
Also: I am learning that grace is a posthumous process. it's monumental in my mind--
Oh, it's been one of those days
where you walk with me so close
This is positively the best sort of day to have the sort of day I'm having: an unexpected reprieve from mindless orientation activities, a day alone at the apartment to clean and bake and spend short moments scampering through puddles in order to 1. take out the overflowing (nearly) kitchen trash 2. roll up my car windows (poor upholstery!) 3. check the mail. Punctuated with lightning that barely registers on my dining room wall, held back by the incandescence of indoors, and the far-away snores of thunder; overlaid, of course, with every Chris rice album I have on iTunes (6, not counting the Christmas one).
And to look forward to (like dessert): After the banana muffins emerge sugar-topped and spicy from the oven I will splash to my car and go to purchase necessary things like: toilet paper, and cotton balls, and brown sugar, and butter, and then:
AND THEN--
I will go to Barnes & Noble and buy a new journal.
People give me journals somewhat frequently. At the moment I have three empty ones. But I can't use any of them. One I will never use because I think it is somewhere across the continent and another I would not use of everyday journaling--probably more for writing letters out of--and the third I've begun using for plots and stories and ideas that I am terrible about writing down and thus remembering.
So you see I need a new one. I really do.
Also: I am learning that grace is a posthumous process. it's monumental in my mind--
Oh, it's been one of those days
where you walk with me so close
Monday, August 16, 2010
El Amanecer
As far as I know (a short distance indeed) I am beginning my last first week of school.
TU gives free lunch during orientation week. Lasagna! Also, I discovered that I could leave right after lunch today. Leaving early!
I am excited about Life right now. The future, as pertains to me, inscrutable as ever, is today shiny and appealing. I don't know what's in it, but I know it will be Good.
I drank a 32 oz. QT drink quite quickly. now I have to get up and pee every fifteen minutes or so. Diet Coke!
The world, as I approach it, looks more and more different from the shadowy place my timid eyes once assumed it to be. Better; also, worse.
There was no mail today in the box. My kitchen smells of soup and whipped cream. I do not like my oven. (It does not work as it should.)
I am working on: Not fearing people, not believing in my own entitlement, and keeping my room neat. Based on my track records, all three have an even chance of failure. But! Grace, I find, has little-to-nothing to do with Track Records. They don't even speak to one another at parties.
Well, well, well.
TU gives free lunch during orientation week. Lasagna! Also, I discovered that I could leave right after lunch today. Leaving early!
I am excited about Life right now. The future, as pertains to me, inscrutable as ever, is today shiny and appealing. I don't know what's in it, but I know it will be Good.
I drank a 32 oz. QT drink quite quickly. now I have to get up and pee every fifteen minutes or so. Diet Coke!
The world, as I approach it, looks more and more different from the shadowy place my timid eyes once assumed it to be. Better; also, worse.
There was no mail today in the box. My kitchen smells of soup and whipped cream. I do not like my oven. (It does not work as it should.)
I am working on: Not fearing people, not believing in my own entitlement, and keeping my room neat. Based on my track records, all three have an even chance of failure. But! Grace, I find, has little-to-nothing to do with Track Records. They don't even speak to one another at parties.
Well, well, well.
Friday, August 13, 2010
My mouth tastes like foot.
I said something REALLY stupid today.
I'm still embarrassed.
(p.s. I may have begun writing what may become a novel last night. A children's novel. Maybe?)
I don't do embarrassed very well.
I'm still embarrassed.
(p.s. I may have begun writing what may become a novel last night. A children's novel. Maybe?)
I don't do embarrassed very well.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Last Hurrah?
I changed the layout here. I like this. We'll see how long it lasts...
I intended to be so productive this week-- I NEED to be so productive this week-- but three old friends are in town and I NEED to catch up with all of them, and the Perseid meteor shower is about to hit and I NEED to watch that at least a little, and-- and-- AND--
Enough excuses. What I must get done, I will get done. I'm apprehensive still about teaching this semester, but I know that it will work out. I'll do my best. I hope my students will do theirs. (and the copout in the back of my mind comfortingly murmurs that even if I don't, and they don't, this is it. my last year in school. my last hurrah.)
(That's actually not comforting at all.)
Anyway, I have about four different lists started: reading lists, lists of handouts I'll eventually make, lists of workshops I want to focus on, lists of exercises for class activities...now I just need to make all of these lists happen. Which I will. In between stargazing and friend-seeing and putting everything back in the cabinets of my apartment since the maintenance people have to spray for cockroaches. yuck.
Tomorrow I will get so much accomplished! Right?
I intended to be so productive this week-- I NEED to be so productive this week-- but three old friends are in town and I NEED to catch up with all of them, and the Perseid meteor shower is about to hit and I NEED to watch that at least a little, and-- and-- AND--
Enough excuses. What I must get done, I will get done. I'm apprehensive still about teaching this semester, but I know that it will work out. I'll do my best. I hope my students will do theirs. (and the copout in the back of my mind comfortingly murmurs that even if I don't, and they don't, this is it. my last year in school. my last hurrah.)
(That's actually not comforting at all.)
Anyway, I have about four different lists started: reading lists, lists of handouts I'll eventually make, lists of workshops I want to focus on, lists of exercises for class activities...now I just need to make all of these lists happen. Which I will. In between stargazing and friend-seeing and putting everything back in the cabinets of my apartment since the maintenance people have to spray for cockroaches. yuck.
Tomorrow I will get so much accomplished! Right?
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
It's Nice To Know
That I'm on the same page with those I love
that I'm not alone in uncertainty
that I'm needed.
I worked all day on Monsieur Syllabus. and Dented him. Tomorrow is my last (!) babysitting job of the summer (PRAISES) and tomorrow night I get to see one whom I love dearly, and whom I must lose ere long. Ere long being Saturday, when she goes off to law school. Life is just transitioning it up all over the place. Like a house afire!
I like to say that whenever I can. It doesn't often work. In fact it works far less often than I manage to use it. But that's not slowing me down.
Well, the summer's over. And to show for it I have the best tan I've probably ever had, ever; up-to-date rent payments, and a much better working knowledge of Tulsa's upper-middle-class suburban cookie-cutter neighborhoods. Also, a concrete experiential knowledge of the old axiom that one's own children are always less dreadful than a stranger's.
But I have loved these kids. These spoiled, weepy, neurotic, rude, lovable, corrupt, manipulative, capable, intelligent, challenging, wonderful children. And it's fitting that I end my time as a summer nanny with the kids I've seen most often this summer. The kids with whom I have spent many a tuesday relaxing at the country club pool while they have their swim lessons (my life is an ABC Family Channel original series waiting to happen. how depressing is that thought? [answer: quite]). The kids I've gotten to know best. They will forget about me: soon I will be a faceless, vague memory of that one summer babysitter before time eradicates me entirely. It's been intensely interesting being the fly on the wall of so many homes this summer, observing people who most often could not remember my name and wouldn't recognize me again. getting to play a part, however small, in all sorts of lives. I wonder who they will become; if the dreams they shared with me will come to pass as they see them now, what kind of grownups they'll morph into.
But I'm SO glad tomorrow's my last day.
It's nice to know.
that I'm not alone in uncertainty
that I'm needed.
I worked all day on Monsieur Syllabus. and Dented him. Tomorrow is my last (!) babysitting job of the summer (PRAISES) and tomorrow night I get to see one whom I love dearly, and whom I must lose ere long. Ere long being Saturday, when she goes off to law school. Life is just transitioning it up all over the place. Like a house afire!
I like to say that whenever I can. It doesn't often work. In fact it works far less often than I manage to use it. But that's not slowing me down.
Well, the summer's over. And to show for it I have the best tan I've probably ever had, ever; up-to-date rent payments, and a much better working knowledge of Tulsa's upper-middle-class suburban cookie-cutter neighborhoods. Also, a concrete experiential knowledge of the old axiom that one's own children are always less dreadful than a stranger's.
But I have loved these kids. These spoiled, weepy, neurotic, rude, lovable, corrupt, manipulative, capable, intelligent, challenging, wonderful children. And it's fitting that I end my time as a summer nanny with the kids I've seen most often this summer. The kids with whom I have spent many a tuesday relaxing at the country club pool while they have their swim lessons (my life is an ABC Family Channel original series waiting to happen. how depressing is that thought? [answer: quite]). The kids I've gotten to know best. They will forget about me: soon I will be a faceless, vague memory of that one summer babysitter before time eradicates me entirely. It's been intensely interesting being the fly on the wall of so many homes this summer, observing people who most often could not remember my name and wouldn't recognize me again. getting to play a part, however small, in all sorts of lives. I wonder who they will become; if the dreams they shared with me will come to pass as they see them now, what kind of grownups they'll morph into.
But I'm SO glad tomorrow's my last day.
It's nice to know.
Monday, August 09, 2010
Saturday, August 07, 2010
The Girls
I used to do a lot of writing like this and I never saved any of it, but this I will post, for no other reason than that it is written.
I read lines written by a friend and one of them was this:
"There are girls to be had in either direction, too, by the way. Nobody does anything for 'the girls' because they're everywhere. Really everywhere."
and as I read it I could feel myself shrinking down and dividing, spreading out everywhere, thinner and thinner; I am "the girls" now, I am one of "the girls," and I am everywhere? I am to be had? on either side? Sides do not matter anymore but they did once. I never did, because I am the girls and am to be had everywhere, on every side. Or perhaps I am like the directions you take, used-to-matter but now indistinguishable. I do not distinguish between them. I do not even know they exist, I am the girls, and I am not to be done for because there are so many of me.
And these lines are taken out of context, and they are not the whole, they are not the point, but the girls will never know the point. what point? girls in every direction, in either direction, and either and every combine to form everywhere, which is where I (the girls) am, standing around, universal. taking it all in and giving nothing back, because noone will do anything for me anymore anyway, there is so much of me to go around. I am to be had.
I read lines written by a friend and one of them was this:
"There are girls to be had in either direction, too, by the way. Nobody does anything for 'the girls' because they're everywhere. Really everywhere."
and as I read it I could feel myself shrinking down and dividing, spreading out everywhere, thinner and thinner; I am "the girls" now, I am one of "the girls," and I am everywhere? I am to be had? on either side? Sides do not matter anymore but they did once. I never did, because I am the girls and am to be had everywhere, on every side. Or perhaps I am like the directions you take, used-to-matter but now indistinguishable. I do not distinguish between them. I do not even know they exist, I am the girls, and I am not to be done for because there are so many of me.
And these lines are taken out of context, and they are not the whole, they are not the point, but the girls will never know the point. what point? girls in every direction, in either direction, and either and every combine to form everywhere, which is where I (the girls) am, standing around, universal. taking it all in and giving nothing back, because noone will do anything for me anymore anyway, there is so much of me to go around. I am to be had.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
P.M.
Post-mortem, perhaps?
So it didn't go as I'd hoped. I unpacked from my weekend away and tidied my room, hied me to a coffeeshop and commenced work--only to waste an hour on a wild-goose chase after an extremely necessary component of said work. It's hard to compose a syllabus and schedule without a textbook.
It frustrated me more than it should have, and I was off for the rest of the day. Unfocused. Not good. I got some reading done for orientation, and did some planning of my future days, but nothing helped more than cooking dinner with Vic and eating mango sorbet while watching The Young Victoria. All men are now ruined for me because I will always compare them to Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg. Alas?
Anyway, yes, good film. I love the Victorians.
And tomorrow I enter another round of babysitting. And soon, soon I will be back in the whirlwind of school things and I think if I put a few more long days into it everything will get done okay and on time.
I think.
Tomorrow is another day (two minutes away)--and no mistakes in it yet. Thank you, Anne Shirley.
So it didn't go as I'd hoped. I unpacked from my weekend away and tidied my room, hied me to a coffeeshop and commenced work--only to waste an hour on a wild-goose chase after an extremely necessary component of said work. It's hard to compose a syllabus and schedule without a textbook.
It frustrated me more than it should have, and I was off for the rest of the day. Unfocused. Not good. I got some reading done for orientation, and did some planning of my future days, but nothing helped more than cooking dinner with Vic and eating mango sorbet while watching The Young Victoria. All men are now ruined for me because I will always compare them to Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg. Alas?
Anyway, yes, good film. I love the Victorians.
And tomorrow I enter another round of babysitting. And soon, soon I will be back in the whirlwind of school things and I think if I put a few more long days into it everything will get done okay and on time.
I think.
Tomorrow is another day (two minutes away)--and no mistakes in it yet. Thank you, Anne Shirley.
Monday, August 02, 2010
A.M.
I am about to go start having a responsible day.
(at 9.47. aka the Crack of Dawn!)
I will write again later, to see how I did.
Over and out.
(Unrelated note: I need to learn to take criticism better. Or, you know, at all.)
(at 9.47. aka the Crack of Dawn!)
I will write again later, to see how I did.
Over and out.
(Unrelated note: I need to learn to take criticism better. Or, you know, at all.)
Summer's almost gone.
I speak not of summer, the season as defined by Earth's axial juxtapositioning with the Sun, but rather of the superimposed artificial strictures of education's demands. The school year, for me, begins in a scant few weeks, and the Things I Need To Do for the year are yet undone. I have postponed doing them, not through sheer Laziness, but rather through Not Knowing How. But now, as it often happens, they must be done, somehow, whether I think I can or not. And so, I will commence doing them...tomorrow. today was a long ten-or-so hours in the car on the way back from Minnesota.
And a wonderful drive it was, too, though I learned a valuable lesson: ridiculous Justin Timberlake music can only be truly appreciated in the proper mixes of companions. Today was a more respectable, less ridiculous Nickel Creek drive. Which is just as well.
Wedding #4, the final wedding of July, is now crossed off my imaginary calendar. The bride at this wedding is Greek Orthodox, and it was fascinating to get to observe their tradition. Added to this was the benefit of sitting with an old family friend and church member at the reception, and having one of those rare conversations with him about our traditions and faiths.
O weddings! more of you loom on my horizon, and though I love you, I welcome the break from the every-weekend schedule I've been keeping.
I'm wiped out from driving all day. To bed I go.
P.S. If you heard anything strange Saturday, or noticed it getting kind of chilly around the Underworld, it was probably just Hell freezing over--I now have unlimited texting. Kuh-razy.
I speak not of summer, the season as defined by Earth's axial juxtapositioning with the Sun, but rather of the superimposed artificial strictures of education's demands. The school year, for me, begins in a scant few weeks, and the Things I Need To Do for the year are yet undone. I have postponed doing them, not through sheer Laziness, but rather through Not Knowing How. But now, as it often happens, they must be done, somehow, whether I think I can or not. And so, I will commence doing them...tomorrow. today was a long ten-or-so hours in the car on the way back from Minnesota.
And a wonderful drive it was, too, though I learned a valuable lesson: ridiculous Justin Timberlake music can only be truly appreciated in the proper mixes of companions. Today was a more respectable, less ridiculous Nickel Creek drive. Which is just as well.
Wedding #4, the final wedding of July, is now crossed off my imaginary calendar. The bride at this wedding is Greek Orthodox, and it was fascinating to get to observe their tradition. Added to this was the benefit of sitting with an old family friend and church member at the reception, and having one of those rare conversations with him about our traditions and faiths.
O weddings! more of you loom on my horizon, and though I love you, I welcome the break from the every-weekend schedule I've been keeping.
I'm wiped out from driving all day. To bed I go.
P.S. If you heard anything strange Saturday, or noticed it getting kind of chilly around the Underworld, it was probably just Hell freezing over--I now have unlimited texting. Kuh-razy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)