9 minutes till I told myself I’d

img_7916get ready for my 1A class.  But I’ll be honest, a lot of me just wants to say ‘fuck it’.  You know?  I’m just not in the mood.  This is why I went down to one class for next semester.  I’m just not into it as I used to be.  Do I love teaching?  Not really, to be honest.  I like working with students, but the truth is I’m a writer.  A creative.  I want to create, I want to sell, build my business, be healthy, and I can’t do that if I’m grading papers.

Sip the coffee… oh I love the coffee.  Coffee could very much be my only love at this moment.  In the shared office on this campus.  And let me clarify, I don’t regret becoming a community college English Instructor.  BUT… I’ve developed new interests about myself, and want to take my life and professional life and efforts in more directions than this campus can provide for me.  I keep telling myself, the only person that can give me the “big break” I need, or the career that would really make me happy, is ME.  SO, there you go.  New life, new goals, new projects.  If I stay here, as an adjunct, just taking the classes they have available for me.  I determine what’s available to me from now on.  Oh shit… 3:59.  Need to be in my classroom in 1 minute.  OR, I want to be.  Let’s see what I do.  “Well no, decide now,” I say to myself.  Want to record everything, so get moving…

Going to go about the 1A class differently.  The way I need to live, and the only way I can keep myself interested in what I’m doing is to do everything differently, right?

Home.  11:07.  Think it’s still raining outside, I don’t know.  Alarm set for 4.  Have coffee in tumbler that I bought earlier in the SRJC caf’.  Or that café on the other side of the wall.  Sent draft of project to client.  New times, new stories, new habits.  Wrote quite a bit in the Carpe journal while in both classes.  Was surprised how well I did in the 1A section, how connected to and emphatic I was about my lecture addressing the first few chapters of Hemingway’s ‘Feast’.  Opinions were everywhere, really.  Most of the students enjoyed the book but their attentions were scattered, covering the whole globe of the manuscript.  We focused quite a bit on the first chapter, and the one about the Seine.  How Hem was observant even to an obsessive and self-stifling degree.  Here, home, at desk, I think of what exactly I want done from 4-6AM, or whenever they all wake.  Need to upload that video I shot yesterday in the camera, write another ‘papablogga’ article, some poetry.. be tireless as a writer, just work and work like the pinnacle of my Personhood is contingent upon what I do in those wee hours.  In a few hours, I’ll see.

WE, see.

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