Just finished working on ‘the awks’, which is already late, me missing my own deadline. No worry, I’ll send it out on Sunday night. In the office this morning, Alice back in her classroom after a lovely maternity leave, time with Ms. Emma— the other side of the door, the theatre classroom, playing some Lady Gaga song, “Applause”. Like the song, but was enjoying my quiet. Supposed to go for a run after this, but not sure I have the energy. The coffee isn’t much helping the exhausted adjunct, after a wonderfully inspiring meeting with my English 5 crew. That student, ’S’, again propelling me to be stronger and more fluid in what I do as an educator hearing her talk about her transfer to UC, the last classes she’s taking here at the JC, and how she’s walking away with TWO A.A.’s.
I’m a fucking student, I remind myself. OF myself, my teaching, life, what I can do with this life, and I don’t have to settle or tolerate simplicity and excess order, patter, orders from any flabby-thinking title-hugging slug. I’m independent. I work for ME. And I l know Mom’s reading this, so I assure I’m in no mood— or yes I am, one CONFIDENT, strong, sure what I’m doing is the right thing, as a writer, listening to this jazz in my head, turning on actual jazz here in the office— shit, have to go to bank, get checks till the ones I ordered arrive. Yes, my thoughts are everywhere but it indicates no scatter or lack of focus but more so the drive in this writer to use and taste every minute of his written day.
A run.. ugh, feel more tired just thinking about that treadmill. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should hold off. But that’s just rationalizing procrastination. And look what happened to my newsletter… I procrastinated, and already with letter 2. So no, one way or a-bloody-nother, I’m getting to the gym for speedwork on that fucking treadmill.
But a nap sounds SO GOOD!
No, don’t do it.
Be tireless with everything, show the world that nothing wears on you—
I know, talking to myself. But this is the motivation I need and the only place I can get it is in this adjunct cell, this office I share, writing to myself. But I’m really writing for all of you, showing you that I’m learning as I go, that I’m not above anyone or anything. We all struggle together.
Stretching in this chair, leaning as far back as I can then returning to the keys. On the way home: bank, then ready for gym. Or maybe I should just run around the house. Or maybe I should stop overthinking it, just see what the story orders of me. I’m still learning, remember. I’m a student. One who never wants to “graduate”. Just keep learning, discovering, transcending realities and understandings. Grow with more understanding. And there I am. A real student, finally. I’ve learned something.
Thank you, Me.