6:56.. with 4 shot mocha, writerfather sits in the cozy adjunct cell, optimistically a-jitter. Nothing to hand back, paper-wise, and new momentum in my verses, the poetry that keeps telling me to come back to it, do readings, even record them and put them on the blog for people to listen to.. be more creative as a blogger.
No one in line this morning at sbux. Couldn’t believe it. The world and universe and day itself perhaps promising it’ll be good to me, I don’t know. But again, positive. Not quite feeling like going to room 1610 and setting up for class.. not yet.. need some time to myself though I know any minute, in one of these nearby breaths that other adjunct will come in here, say “goodmorning” and of course I’ll fake it back, but that anymore’s just part of the morning, so I shouldn’t let it bother me too much. I rub my left eye, may be more tired than I let on. Emma slept rather well last night, except for the 3-something wake where I changed her, then handed the petit to Alice for feed. I went downstairs and slept for another 90 minutes or so, maybe a wink more. We’re lucky how well she sleeps, overall. As mornings like this where I have to rise and teach early could even more hellish if she DIDN’T sleep.
Tempted to cancel class, or at least just make it a brief meeting. Spring Break’s next week anyway, so….. No. Can’t do that. Want to talk about.. whatever we’re going to talk about. What now.. rhetoric? Arguments? Creative Writing? Have to think of something… I’ll start with the word ‘Argument’, then go from there. Go where? No idea.
Lost my thought… should just go to class. How much mocha do I have left? Not enough. Hope the 4 shots are kind to the writerfatheradjunct—