“May the 4th be with you,” I know. I love Star Wars as well, so happy 4th…
This morning, I woke at 4, but it took me a bit to start writing. Started at 4:40-something I think, and didn’t go back to sleep after alarm pulled me from peace. So I count such as a slight victory. Woke this morning to rain, on drive to sbux, decided to treat Self to a 4-shot mocha and not my regular and less price-pounding large coffee. Giving Self 20 minutes to write, and edit and post. Zen in this adjunct cell. I’ll be out of here soon.
Don’t see myself opening any wine tonight, nor getting any beer from Whole Foods or the store on Piner & Coffey. I don’t want to start any descent. I’m ascending as I wrote last night. Tired of normality, tired of the same shit day to day. NOW, finally, I write like I don’t care. Cuz I don’t. HST said he was finally able to really enjoy life after he was forced not to give shit. Well, that’s where I am. And not in a vengeful way, a precise and productive way, you could say. Since day one of no alc, Sunday, I’ve been quick, productive, speedy… a true entrepreneur.
Today in class, this morning for their draft sessions, I’m going to have them consider Voice, Structure, word and sentence variety, and evidence usage. Should probably write that down… Comp Book. Can’t cuz that would cost a few seconds reaching into bag then pulling the Comp out, flipping to proper page (blank one), then finding a pen, writing it all down.— Shit, did it anyway. Wrote notes and the points of the workshopping rubric— See? I love teaching, I just hate the adjunct game, what it’s done to me and my thoughts on what I’m doing, how I see myself. Need a quote for the day as well.. what?
Found Faulkner quote. Now with less than 5 minutes in my writing allowance. How? Time is a bastard of slimy carnivorous bastard asses. Should get to room early, write thoughts and notes as they come to me for the session. I’m going to lecture a bit today, but just not care how professional or academic I sound. Today is about the students and their writing, and feeling comfortable with their writing, proud of it, eager to submit it.
7AM. Less than 3 left. You know what, I’m giving myself ten more minutes. More than sanctioned, more necessitated. Stopped timer and reset to fresh ten minutes. Hear someone in hallway. The full-timer down the hall.
Just thought: Have them write an assessment of what they brought to class, their writing style. Take notes, take notes on the notes— Feel the caffeine already working, looking at the Faulkner quote of “Don’t be a writer. Be writing.” And I say to myself, “I AM writing. When people think of writers I want them to think of me, or cite me, or, and, cite how I’m always writing, always jotting some idea.” The rain outside is meant, intended and designed for today and this climb of mine. To Total Wellness and my travels, the books, notes, all. Staring at my keys, I remember how I felt last semester, driving to fucking Solano and even more putrid Mendocino. No sense talking about it, as that will NEVER happen again. No more freeway flying, ever.
ONE THING I WANT FROM TODAY: Satisfaction. Of some higher form. Could come with the writing, parenting, fitness/health (if I can find time to work out today). Something. And I mean a truer than true and VISIBLE satisfaction with my Personhood and embraced character.
On Writing: written journal. Start with the Comp Book.
Wrote for students, “If you want to be a decided writer, you have to decide.” And by decided I mean DETERMINED, DEVOUT… committed, with character, you have to “be writing”. One of the many Literary qualities I find to the Star Wars films, the original 3, is Luke’s fervor and drive to be a Jedi. The same is true with writing, I’m finding at my old age. I’m learning, I know now, I’m again a student of what I teach and the people I teach. Savory cyclical sense…