Department Chair, new guy, emailing me asking if I’d switch sections, after 10 of my 100 students already enrolled. Of course I told him no, fool. how do they have “glitches,” as he cited? He’s the department chair. Anyway… Headed to Monterey later, in less than 2 hours. Only bringing, aside from clothes [running articles included], legal sheets and Poe works. Looking to have one session later today, or early tomorrow. By Self, with coffee, and near ocean, with it in eyeshot.
Wondering what Fall’s going to be like, working 7 days a week again. Typing every lecture, and keeping ONE Comp book for term. That’s where the semester’s book will come from. Clutter on desk.. not letting it stress me. Only motivate. And it is, truthfully. Imagining my office, how I’ll have it laid out. I always do.. my espresso machine by desk, wine rack by books, couch.. various Art pieces adorning certain wall corners.
On ride down to Monterey, need to let mind go. Get outside any boxes– ugh, that word again. Reminding me of them, in that office– the box. Don’t let it go there, your mind. That’s another, and quite LITERAL, box. Let it away fly. To Alaska’s wildness.. to a café in your ville de Paris. My French, with it reconnecting, readying Self for near return. Étudier quand je peux.
Should register for that website, with the French tutor, Alexis I think her name is. MY goal: total fluency. De parler parfaitement. Had two cups this morning, but already needing more, believe it or NOT. Ugh, have to pack. Need to get running items into bag, prepare my writing bag (the one my sister-in-law bought me, which shamefully I’ve barely used). Dinner tonight, more than likely getting some steak cut, and pairing Cab with it, not that there should be much surprise there. Checking out the French instruction site, can’t afford right now. Maybe with this Friday’s check. Je ne sais pas. But, this morning, je suis un écrivain direction besoin …
Fatigué. And I want to try learning for free, honestly. Take in any French word, phrase, saying, name I can. Keep a journal, another Comp Book, COMPLETELY in français. Have to pack. Will try to write between now & departure, but more than likely won’t have such seconds. Passez une bonne journée, lecteur.
French, the language, and culture.. addictive. Do fall deeper, I tell Self. Jack watches me type, forced to hear me repeat newly learned phrases.
8/2/13. Home from work. Long day with morning test with new vehicles. Did learn a couple things about driving vehicles of that admeasurement. And either way, I love being on the grounds early, with that early sun, or overcast. Last night’s movie event at winery, possibly my last. Simply too exhausting for the writer to work all day on estate the scurry to pour, or blog/do social media [for free, mind you] for another winery, even if my family’s had a presence there for well over a decade. Have to remember.. consolidation.
After exam, or wheeled checkride, back in tasting Room. Not too many memorable characters, except for a visit from one of my top five strongest students/writers, ever, Elyse. Funny she showed today, as I was feeling less than lively about the coming term, the material I have prepared, or shortage therein. But her stop at the winery, on Reserve patio with 4 friends, our talk today, her sharing her wine blog and news that she’s an active journalist in SLO, forced a new, even more fiery mind presence, drive for semester. Tonight, after entry for this b/log: writing for Eng 5’s first day, 1A’s additionally.
Name tag, facedown on this table, in condo’s nook. Think they’re silly, really. I feel as though they reiterate identity while robbing you of it, syncopatedly. In my office, there’d be NO name tags. Whatever business I own.. No. Name. Bloody. Tags. Someone wants to know your name, they’ll ask. Or, you can introduce yourSelf, as any socially apt human being would do. Why does the name have to be forced, put in faces of guests? Don’t understand it, honestly. At AV Winery, wearing a tag wasn’t required. And at Kaz.. please.
Last night, surprised that I sipped Zin. Didn’t mind it, really. Although, I must say, I think I’ve reached some point with wine. What? I’m a bit tired of it, really. That’s why I’m sipping an artisan beer these eve. More human, more sippable, more me. Now.
10:44pm. Time for sleep, quite soon. No editing tonight. Hate editing. But I have to do it. I know. Being reminded of, whether from Self or outside characters, annoying. Sipping sparkling berry. Tomorrow, running. Only 3 miles. Right knee, bothering again.
Wine, very much losing its grip on the writer. Refocusing on Lit, in a fanatical way. Relationship with text, what ‘it’ is all about. My former student’s visit today, only pushing me closer to Road, my office. Living by pen.
clock, so demanding, but
not rewarding me adequately..
stopping, putting into different gear–
writing in parking lot, but forgot where I
left pages; no gallery, creating this
erratically. deadlines behind opaque
My verses, suffering. Tomorrow, yes, one other day. But I can’t continue to rely on these tomorrows. I want advance in the todays. Tomorrow, leaving house a renewed writing. So finish something.. anything. Maybe start with writings for the coming semester. Need to start reading course material, to be ahead of the students. Picking my moment, expanding upon. And my moments, lying in lectures. Not in anything wine-related. And how could it? Wine’s consumable– sipped, sold, suppressed. Writing, transcending and shaping. Its sharpness never leaves.
Students this semester should expect much more idea sharing from me, journal writing, and stylistic/interpretive explanation– meaning, explaining why they wrote what they did, why they’re interpreting the text how they are. I’m also set on journal usage, and students to understand the concept behind, with, around journaling, journal maintenance.