and hearing music come from the other side of the wall, the other side of the door which would put me atop the theatre, or auditorium. Hard to concentrate— some music, in another language, confusing but lots of energy, so positive and motivating— my life into this song and already in this song and I can’t even understand it. And then it’s over. SHIT. What happened? Can’t wait to go for a run, feel that air that I felt when listening to my wife’s voicemail, running along Fulton from the Piner intersection all the way to River Road.. running, getting back into shape in a way that I’ve NEVER been. Was actually thinking about trying some 30day challenge and seeing where it takes me. And why not?
So how ‘bout this, readers: no wine, beer; no meat; no sweets (including but not limited to ice-cream, random candies, those gummy snacks); nothing fried, salty or greasy… LOTS of veggies, fruits, nuts… OH, and no dairy! Which means no mochas. Goddamnit, that’s going to hurt.
10:32, or now :35, and I’m thinking about the rest of the day, as I always do, and all the time till the evening or late afternoon 1A. As I always, do. Next semester will be different, I alway say that, but why do I have to wait till next semester for difference? And who said I have to be this fucking tired? I’m changing.. the day.. the semester.. ME.. my writing.. my attitude. EV.ER.Y.THING!
There….. That felt astoundingly relieving.
Hear one of the full-timers advise a student. And I have to laugh. Laugh because I know there’s so much for me out there, I’m a student again, learning from myself and not attending some annoying pedagogue’s hour, needing to be in that office— ugh, no. I’m teaching myself, or better my days are. Each day and hour and moment is a standalone lecture. Like now, the quiet of this office, my office (only now, in this hour, Monday’s and Wednesday’s from 10-11, is it “mine”) I see the value of quiet, of time to Self to further develop that self into a SELF.
Researching other bloggers and I see what can be done with what we write, what we put out into the world. And the music again comes to this renewed and enlivened adjunctwriterfather from the other side of the door. This time, something of Asian flavor. I love it; all the suggestion and different chords and chimes, voices and octaves— notes, new notes! So much Newness in what I hear I want to leave the office, walk around the corner and sit in on the class. Can I do that? Do they let adjuncts do that?
Time… papers… no more coffee. A pen, my legal pad that I took from the office supplies in the mailroom (please, don’t even say it’s stealing.. by having adjuncts and treating us as they do this school and every one like it in the state, in the country, is stealing), my keys, more papers, and my laptop, phone. My own petit monde in this adjunct cell, my office. But I still have time, and I bask— Love. Meditation. FOCUS, as Mom insists.