9:06AM. In Library, in corner, nice and lovingly quiet. A little time with my words before meeting Mercedes, the English 5 student from last term. After this morning’s session, I want to go deeper into Ms. Plath’s mind, Life, decline.. for the sake of that PhD piece I was writing. Angry at Self for following of PhD train. That stops today.. The poem “Blackberrying”, showing us Plath’s day-to-day side, meaning how she’ll just record her moment, juxtaposing her acknowledgement of the shaky border between Life & Death.
A lone student walks to one of the standing computer terminals, left, 11 o’clock. Then just as soon leaves. Was just thinking, “all it takes is an idea.” For what? For anything. Changing where you are in life, a career.. anything.
I need to change the way I arrange sessions, for all levels, sections. Research, I’m thinking, for the English 100 class.. anything related to any of their observations in the book, concerning the family dynamic, or anything else.
This may be a new writing spot for me. Love being in the library, role of a student.. thinking.. writing.. being alive, no script recitals.. education, Self. Ten minutes till my meeting. Don’t think I’ll be doing any rec letters for a while, they’re too troublesome, in so many terms. So what do I want more, a FT job at a JC or acceptance into a PhD, like Stanford or Davis…? Well, the PhD, but can I afford that? How would I make a living? There IS a way, there has to be.. just think… all it takes is an idea…..
8:24PM. Sipping Merlot, here at home. Alice to bed early, drained from her day. I’m having trouble stopping, having finally put the NVC app in the mail, had my hair cut, did a little teaching task-management, and here I am. With you, reader. Putting more poems into the collection.. ones older, that I haven’t read in months, and a couple haven’t been contacted by my eyes in well over a year. The pushing of poems, verse, will be what will finance everything I want, from self-publishing a novel to paying for my PhD.. this is my official business plan. And at my age, there’s no changing this.
Listing all the classes I’ve taught over the last four years, citing everything from course title to start & end date, had me again noticing Time’s continual attack on me as a writer. And I remember touching on this topic in today’s ‘5’ meeting. How it never stops, and all we can do is watch it flee. But writers, we can trap it. Or parts of it.
Loved that spot in the Library this morning, and all the articles I found on Ms. Plath– and oh, just remembered that there’s no school, Monday. SO.. WEDNESDAY, I’ll enter the room with more energy, more luminous layers to my lecture than they’ve ever seen. What if that’s the day that makes me known around the campus as a great lecturer? Think it could be.. need visuals, audio [thinking that one interview she did, found on Youtube..]. Going to print a couple handouts, copies from her journal entries.. and I’ll type that letter that I was too muffled to, the other day in Annadel.
What if I started my own little mini-zine for my classes? Really taking my teachings into an unknown, passion-pounded swoop? An idea, surely. Like a newsletter, but more.. love this thought. I want my students to be overwhelmed with thoughts– and yes, OVERWHELMED. That’s what’ll encourage reaction, assumption of onus.
Doesn’t look like the rain wants to come back to the writer. And that’s fine. I’ll be writing to this Merlot’s precipitation into my center. Not as much grip from this bottle, but the center’s there [I just don’t want to say ‘mid-palate’], for sure.
9:37. Tired, and needed a disconnect. So, to a writing movie. And I know just which.