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11/26/13–  9:46pm.  No contributions to narrative novel.  Not today.  Too into thought, classes, my career as a professor.  Just a note: I love how people fear me writing about them, or something they told me on this log; that assures they acknowledge me a writer.  Still thinking of doctorate venture.  Did buy a GRE study guide, wrote a couple lines for personal statement.  Stopping there.  Tomorrow, hoping to write a couple lines for first 5-page paper.  The one on Poe.  What I want to argue: his endorsement of mania.  Now sipping the rest of this ’12 SB, Lancaster.  Need to get new little notebook, tomorrow morning, before taking Jack to Lisa’s.  So I can make notes on statement; everything from diversity, to classroom discussion/openness, to journal maintenance, contribution.  Didn’t order my books today.  Will do when back on campus, a week from today.

A student who wasn’t in class tonight emailed me, calling me “Professor Madigan”.  Makes me smile, uncomfortable at same time.  The student should be respectful, but also encouraged to acknowledge all around her/him as an equal.  Community.. intrinsic in my pedagogy.

Still no word from Mendocino.  Not too sure I’m concerned.  I know what path I’m on, now.  After meeting Emily, then Alice telling me of her friend quitting her elementary school teaching job, about to finish her first quarter in a PhD program.  At STANFORD.  Psychology.  It’s quite clear what the writer need do: go back to school.  Make it a writing assignment, mission.  My whole Life now, about the Literary.  A quote from that movie “Sylvia,” when Hughes urges Plath to pick a subject and stick her head into it.  Or something like that.  Either way, I know my “subject.” It’s being a writer, teacher.  And to go after what I want, at this point in my Life, pushing the wine’s feeble industry, all its elements, aside.. is truly brave, I think Hemingway would say, award.  He’d be proud of this Irishman.  Electing this gambado, as it’s the only logical move for this writer to do.

note (for statement): teaching is what makes people like me evolve, grow; seeing them, the students, grow, discover their respective passions, curiosities, strengths and weaknesses.

10:25pm.  Night’s cap.  A Racer 5.  TV off.  My new creed, TV’s the ultimate enemy, especially to us, the Literary.  Upset I didn’t get to café.  Not sure why, I had enough time.  Just didn’t feel it form appropriate.  Meaning, I didn’t want plan today– I wanted the unexpected, the momentness.. all to quick decision.

Now thinking of the student’s role, what their interactions with Literature could do.. SHOULD do.  Feel almost as I did when I was fired from the box, when walking out to my car: that feeling of promise, the Restart, new lighting.  That’s what I feel today.

There was a book I looked at today, that I wanted to buy, that I should have bought, on teaching.  But didn’t.  Need to post to teaching blog, get dialogue, exchanges, at much more considerable elevation, pace, than ever prior this semester.

Thinking next semester should be even more simple than I previously measured, projected: 4 papers, 10 typed responses, 5 research assignments, 5 letters [to me, the teacher], 1 final paper.  Want students to have the most opportunity they can to capitalize on their strengths, visions.

Till the next meeting, for both classes, post something everyday to teaching blog.  Stay a teacher, especially when at that winery.

Time to close this day’s vignette.  I’m done.  But I know what I want, more than any other before time.  Lovely.  Love.  This is what writers hope to feel, at any point in their penning lives.