Just There This Morning

If I can just have enough time for some thought before going to help my wine bar friend.  Looking at the pictures from yesterday, of the vineyards and them growing, and of course the obvious correlation with me growing as a writer and wine person, father, blogger, business owner, all.  From this assignment at the wine bar I’m aspiring for the gathering of two realities; business management style, wine inventory, sales and selling, and brand story, identity.  Sitting here in the conference room and after talking to another adjunct whom I thought was a full-timer about the woes of adjunctdom and how it’s at this point pretty much a lost cause, her saying “It gets more depressing every time,” after seeing me look at the signup sheet in my mail slot.  I told her my name is further down than hers, but she told me it didn’t matter.  Again I ask, and state, but more ask: “Why do this?” I’m all but convinced I’ll only do 1 class for Fall, as by that time I hope to be traveling with my lectures, ideas, sharing them and reading on everything from poetry to diarist habit, to wine, to life, to blogging, parenting, just sharing my experiences and knowing that someone will connect.  And not even that I will inspire them or move them to some action, but to start a conversation.  More, I’m seeing conversation as the key to anything wanted from life.  Conversations with others, yes, but with Self as well.  And being honest in that conversation.

Still feeling the coffee from earlier.  Finally awake.  Looking at photos of my babies, both, Jack shedding all his babiness, now a full Human.  All that’s left is growth.  But with Ms. Emma I get my baby, my baby fix, those looks like I am the only thing in her cosmos (till Mama into the room walks).

Department chair in mailroom.  Doing something but I know he knows I’m here.. doesn’t say shit, walks back into office across the hall.  I’m fine with it.  I’m just an adjunct, a part of something but not the whole part, something added; garnish; ancillary; not an essential part.  I get it, I get it.  But in my own world, my business, this ‘mikemadigancrEATive’ plain which dominates my day and all days that follow; the creative, so I can EAT…  If I were to give all to this teaching thing as that adjunct I was talking to has done, we’d all starve.  And I want my wees to always have appeased centers.

9:13, the adjunct sees on his laptop clock.  Should he go get a coffee then scurry to assignment, or write a bit more than go to Railroad Square?  I’ll walk in with my Comp Book, note everything Scott says, learn the ways of his business and how he sells— sell my writing, I thought this morning pulling away from the house and on the way to sbux for my 4-shot.  Then.. I saw it, me on a plane, off to New York to speak on essay writing, my last 3,500-word piece attracting interest, questions, conversation.  When I land, time to talk.

Working on a 3,500-word essay.  Going to market it to mags, newspapers, self-publish it and post it to blog, or print it for my lit mag Mon Petit Mise.  9:23, should soon go.  And yes, I need coffee.  I’ll get it on the Square, walk to Scott’s.  Take backpack with, in case I have to type something or have time to get some work done for class tonight.  Busy day, and I love it—  Running.