Day 2

Working lunch. 


Between classes.  Burrito from caf’ which I know I shouldn’t have bought but I needed something and when you’re hungry anything sounds good.  That, and a student in the 100 class kept mentioning Mexican food, so it wrapped my head in the most immediate possibility on campus.  100 went well, 1A next, and I’m riding the day’s wave, in so many ways.  Haven’t hit many of the pillars on day 2 of this 30 day “challenge”, or story.  But I still have several hours left, of course.  First bite of burrito, and my attention is sliced.  Now all I want to do is eat, not write.  Ugh…

5.5-something mile run this morning started the day off with promise and love, but ate a horrible portion of my day’s time, the minutes to self.  Burrito also making me want to take the rest of the day off.  But I know I can’t.  Silly to even think about.  The day, positive, but still a bit bland now I think about it.  What can I do to make it spicier than this burrito?  My choice, it not being so picante, as I can’t do really fiery foods, and I ordered mild.  Not sure what I’m saying.  Go ahead, stop reading.  This is just a tired and bored adjunct in his shared office, one that needs to do something to his story to make it more interesting.  To make HIM more interesting.  I know!  When done with the burrito, walk back across campus to C Lot, drop off everything but Composition Book and copy of Road.  Then sprint to library and write as much as you can.  Take pictures…  Blog the whole walk.  Content, content—  NO.  Story, story…

Still horribly hungry, and I’m halfway through the tortilla’s contents.  What do I do now…  Slow down, obviously.  You might be thinking that, but I don’t know what to do.  I’m about to close this goddamn laptop, walk back across campus to the C Lot, lighten the additional that I carry around with me, that I encumber myself with, and head to the library.  How can I feel more free?  Asking self this but necessarily getting what I’d call an “answer”.  Hear another instructor laughing in the hallway, a full-timer I imagine, and I get annoyed.  Know I don’t have a right to, but I do, and I realize I’m violating pilar 1 of this 30-day, which is “No Negativity”.  So I take a deep breath.  A deep, deep breath and think about the possibilities at the writer’s front, what’s in his sight and the immediacy of everything.  So…

Back from taking the fork back to mail room, where the sink and corner kitchen is.  Somehow found myself in a conversation with two full-timers about semi-colons and coordinating conjunctions.  Not sure how I found myself in the exchange, but I did, both of them more or less disagreeing with me and my venom toward the “mutant punctuation” as I called it.  Friendly encounter, but I don’t want to think about how much time I burned through talking with them.  It’s 3:50, and I need to get to the goddamn C Lot.  OR, maybe I should stay here.  Well, after I get a sparkling water from the bookstore.  Adjunct life, Adjunct life.  So exciting, right?  Need to work on my poems tonight, smaller pieces, anything to SELL.  Need these income gaps bridged.  I’m in the thick of one now, having to watch each penny before fucking Monday, when I finally get paid from this goddamn college.  “Watch it, Mikey!  Don’t get negative.” I’m not, just writing with emphasis, maybe a bit of flex.

Listening to Zero 7.  Relaxing.  The music orders me to change my attitude and sight, even the thoughts I have on semi-colons.  Just enjoy your time on campus, being in the sphere of academics, students and teachers alike and how so many start on their path here.  Acquiring dreams, many time, starts at a single college campus for people.  Huh, have known this but haven’t really taken the breaths necessary to appreciate.  Lunch is over, but I don’t need to get back to work fully.  Or at least not right away.  I’m just enjoying the music, really.  Sitting in this shared office taking a minute to myself.  Have to remind Me to do that, just take a couple minutes.  “Take five.” As they, and Dave Brubeck, say.

Decided I do need that walk across campus.  Want to feel different, look different walking into class.  Not with this huge goddamn bag and the flapping and flailing cords and locks, ties and whatever else.  Want to travel light.  Walk in there looking like a writer, who just happens to teach.  Not the usual awkward professor that ‘also’ writes.  No.  I’m walking in that room, Emeritus 1691 (I think), and will be of contrasted fashion.  And I don’t mean “fashion” as in what I’m wearing, but the role, the appearance and feel of whom instructs them.  Told the 100 class to “stay in the chair” over the weekend while revising their papers.  Maybe I shouldn’t leave this office so soon, then.  Maybe I should wait.  See what else I can take out of this room, my music.  But I think I may have hit either a wall, or some creative tree.  I could try and climb both, but that would just take more time, more time I don’t have, not if I’m trying to build a blog and business, not if I’m trying to be seen as more a writer than anything else.

Shit!  Just realized it’s after 4.  Need to leave.  Goddamn Time has been after me all day.  From the run— no, even before trying to get Jack dressed and waiting for mon petite, Emma, to wake up.  Close this laptop, Mike!  Close it now!  But I can’t.  Silly to think about, and even sillier to try.  I keep looking back at my car, office, and house keys, then back to the keys I’m pushing.  Need to leave these keys in the car, in the bag, in the trunk, walk back here to Emeritus with only a Comp Book and Road copy.  And the other keys of course.  Resolved this all must be an aftershock from letting myself get so hungry, even though now I’m far from.