Oh, and…..

8:56AM– students should be arriving soon. After our talk I’ll fly across the street to meet the Skyhawk publisher. Then, possibly, up to RRV, just to check out grounds, see different stages scattered and if it prompts writing, just to see, no tasting planned. Other than that, I’m keeping the day open. Maybe something will hop into my scope and envisioning that I didn’t last night conjur– oh! The Anne Sexton collection.. need to get that– but I shouldn’t, I know.. have to save, the new house purchase just ahead of me and my character needs to be further hastened to discipline and frugal reaches.. my last day of this “break”, and I know I can’t plan anything, I can’t make a list of things or anything’s ‘to-do’. I should be keeping a list of everything I GET done rather than what I hope to have done. Make sense? Entirely, at least to me–
My chapter compounds sitting here, at this 12 & Mission spot with my laptop open and waiting for students.. I don’t watch my types, I don’t stare at the scree, I just write, madly, hope that something amazing happens today, something with the writing and the story..

And back home, I feel the anxiety pulsate and plume from me, what should I do what should I do? Didn’t I just tell one of them (that I just met with) not to overthink? Ugh.. now frustration to garnish the anxiety.. great. Not driving to RRV.. if this is my last day off, I’ll spend it sequestered, writing, reading.. no wine, no driving, no SPENDING.. just coffee and composition. 11:13 and I’m already tempted to nap. Absolutely NOT, writer! Writer’s don’t nap! The awake stay, wait for the pushing pagination play.. upstairs for this session, no couch.. in Dad’s old chair with my books around me, and minimal tech interaction. What should my other reading projects be? So far: ‘Vanity/Duluoz’, Emerson’s works, a redress of ‘Road’.. maybe Poe’s works? The text I used in Fall ’13? Done.. just one more, and I’ll take my time in selection.
Bright outside, inviting nearly demanding I run. But I won’t.. again aiming for the madness I acquired two days ago, buried in books and no concern for work or money or bills. Just material. Ms. Plath, right.. AH! Her entries.. read cover to cover (cliché, yes, but also as many say, which I guess makes it cliché, but readers the point very much get!). Stacked atop Emerson. Sink these teeth into day, like it’s a peach, or pair– then fiddle with it and its times, like saxophone notes, like I can still play– Up, glowing and aqua, so what do I do with it? Just stare? Write? Write about how it’s so nice out there while I’m the writer bunkered in here? Maybe I should go for a walk or maybe a drive and write remotely? But with INK! Actually write! It could be my ‘Al Aaraaf’! This whole day could.. all the characters I observe like their own stars and just appreciate their orbit, their conversations while they eat or drink coffee, or just pass by, in Springish saunter, indifferently meditative.. I’m jealous, or I will be. My incipit, shedding its quivering curves and now starting to find rhythm– so I need jazz and more coffee and more intimacy with what I’m feeling, and that is… career! Work! Making all this my own. It’s true, no one nor a single or collective entity can provide the career I want, or more so that I vibrantly deserve! Only I can and it will cartwheel from these words and teachings! And if I do start teaching high school English, we will find gems in the fundamentals, no matter how “boring” some students find it! There is application! There is freedom! There is LIFE! I will show them, my prospective teenage students, such, and allow them to make a text their own and find meanings, meanings they value and see as applicable to society! I will find a way, no matter how strict the curriculum is..
Amain with ideas this morning, and transcending into afternoon. I feel threatened by nothing. Only freedom. I know what my career and path and profession is– words, teaching, sharing of ideas.. and I see my doctoral work, the eventual, being in education if anything, not any Literary period or author set. The concept and principle of education, being educated and educating one’s Self! And the ideas continue to accost me pleasantly.. this is unfettered fervor that is NOT to be questioned or undermined, or forsaken. Not sure why I’m getting so dramatic, but…
Going to SSU, walk around, visit the credential department, ask a couple questions, and just be on a campus.. need that.. need to not be locked indoors, the Story tells me. Hungry.. may get lunch at Redwood. MAY, operative word. And go to B&N, look at books on teaching and education and Sexton.. need to pick that up!

View from Stevenson Hall, 3rd Floor.

Stopped at SSU to find that Fall 2015 is closed. Left a message for Dept Chair to see if there’s any chance.. we’ll see. Again I return to Dad’s question of ‘in a perfect world’. I’d write, obviously. And I am. And then what? I need money to result. And I’m not in the mood to write, now. Not sure what I’m in the mood to do. Don’t want coffee.. don’t want an afternoon beer as I thought of, that’d only slow me and I can’t afford to move slow. Should I just dive headfirst into coffee again? Se what bizarre things I write and what ideas precipitate from there? At a loss.. a nap sounds delicious at the moment.. ugh..the indecisive vice around my thinking’s aggravating but curious at the same time. But what is it teaching me?
And my laptop won’t let me followup with an email to her. Sign? Don’t know, but I’m getting frustrated with this goddamn laptop. And, as I’ve thought before: instead of wishing for what I don’t have and thinking about what I don’t have and how there’s something else I need to “advance” a career, why not work with what I already in my hands have? I have students.. I have a Master’s.. I have material and texts and pedagogical freedom… New ideas come now, and I think coffee may only distort them.. use only energy inherent, natural.

And I’m watching a documentary on a writer, a writer for TV. He was fired and now he’s on tour with his podcast.. should I start a podcast? I used to know how but now don’t. I don’t want to be on camera so it’d have to be vocal only, but that’d take away from the writing. Or maybe it’d be an additive to… Ideas ideas, the ambition’s my armament but also my achilles. And I don’t know if anyone would listen to my podcast.. I’m not funny like this guy.. I just write, I just journal.. I just live or evolve kind of by way of words and meshed expression.. faster faster, I tell myself. I’ll be on the Road at some point, soon, like this funny podcaster screenwriter personality network guy. If he can do it, I’m sure I can. I don’t need approval, I don’t need applications accepted. I only need me. As I’m the only one who can provide the career that’s pursued by me so ferociously. (3/19/15)