Tired. And I deserve to be. Wrote all the essays for the FT app. Just need to do a rough edit, then I’m done. And I say ‘rough’ edit, as I want to be truthful, not proctored, in my responses. I’m conveying truth with my pages, as always. Just posted to teaching app, pouring the last of last night’s MMFM Merlot. Tastes better tonight than last. But again.. hard to judge. It’s either in shock, or about to go into shock. Dropped off quite a bit of my wine at Mom & Dad’s. More for them, some for Katie, then a couple for mySelf. This project taught me that winemaking can never be a mere hobby.. not if you want it, the wine, to turn out palatable. And I have to say, mine’s incredible. But is it really “mine”? Zach broached this topic with me the other day, mentioning the whole ‘it takes a village’ scope. I’m not sure I completely agree, but I see the validity in such conceptual forward. With writing, there’s no such dizzy. You write it, it’s yours. And no, if you publish traditionally, editors should never receive credit– just the precise reason for my urge to Self-print.
Merlot, catching me. It wants to tell me something, and I think I know what but don’t want to type it. Might make me look like a soggy scribbling sap. So I stop. Need another sip– I want to challenge it, this devilish wine of mine.
After that sip, I’m relaxed. Finally. Thinking about my students from last semester… Hard for me to believe I’m in a new term. Doesn’t seem right, to me. Not sure why the thoughts this way spin tonight, but they are. And I’m sure this grape juice doesn’t help. What would Mr. Poe tell me to do, where would he tell me to go?