Taking a break from grading. 

Need it.  Allowing self, gifting self, ten minutes to collect, write for a bit, brainstorm on going forward with my new goals in education.  Writing about Keoruac, Plath, Hughes… Shakur.  I’ve been bitten again, by this bug, this teaching bug, this bug that wants me to put everything into teaching and education, but not at any risk to family, or my position in the wine world.  Truly, wine has shown me that literature is where I belong.  No.. I’m not quitting my wine life, not at all.  Why would I when I view wine as the most literary entity I’ve ever known, in many respects and angles more than a book, literature itself.  Don’t have time to get into that now, but I’m targeting Stanford… beyond.  Harvard, Yale, Colombia, with my papers, my thoughts and lectures on my focus authors.  And it may be more than merely the four.  I haven’t decided.  I do need soon decide, though.  Come to some conclusion.

Don’t want to return to grading, but I have to.  Want to get these goddamn paper stacks that I brought on myself out of my life.  Just under six minutes left in break.  Organized stack.  Put everything in one, I guess you could say “stack”.  This will give me more an accurate picture and professing, telling of where students are.  Will print role sheet… offer the quote I was going to offer the other day.  Feel myself changing, and it started with that post from one of my wife’s friends that she’s close to tenure.  And then, others telling me that I embody the unionization of work and passion (student sent me a message, a “meme”, through a social medium, yesterday, saying just that… this again told me).  I’m being told, taught by where I am, here in the adjunct cell.. not a cell.  MY office, right now, here me a teacher.  Kerouac told us to think from the most bottom part of our minds…. I remember, and there is the image of me saying in high school that I’ll be a writer, professor, at Stanford.  Going to be 30-fucking-9 next year.  Re-write.  RE. WRITE.