…where would THAT lead?  How many wine reviews and wine thoughts and wine “positions” and opinions, and “analyses” if there are any, are studied, read like literature is?  What does wine really do for the “studier” but give that “student” a justification for indulgence, for immature behavior and excess?  How can I consider you a journalist when in media pieces I see you taking selfies and quirky pictures, more behavior than evidence of study?  Now the mood makes itself more visible and I know I need to back off, just let go and realize and know what I’m doing is right.  And I can still lecture at the college level—  And who wants to read this?  I’m spending this early hour, this gift from my daughter obsessing over work, the adjunct symptoms?  Not what I want.  Not what this morning’s story calls for.

Feel like when the hour reaches six the gift expires, or the morning loses something.  So as always I dash and sprint against time maybe outrunning it for a bit but then it catches me.  Thinking of my teachings over the last ten years, when I started at Chabot, then had my first section at Napa, then Solano in the Fall.  Then a couple years later coming SRJC and my alma’ SSU.  My story, my story… analyzing my story.  Writing, reading, teaching, journaling, study, living and existing.  How did I get here?  How do I fix or change this?  How do I rebuild and reinvent?  Don’t embrace the whole ‘measure twice cut once’ scope and meditation.  You don’t have time for that.  Just no more error.  No more self-doubt, and no more negativity.  I’m a teacher, one who loves the pages that are created, the second a student notices something in their creative and thoughtful self.

Why do I look at the clock so much when I do finally write at the 5AM hour or shortly after.  I’m misusing this gift from little Emma.. should read while drinking my coffee, one or two of those teaching books I ordered.   Should go for a run but I don’t want to leave Alice with the littles, the “mini-Beats” as I them lovingly dub.  Ten minutes till 6—