This morning I woke up and felt so stressed out. It blew my mind. Like, I was stressed out while still in a horizontal position. It's all the things that need to be done. To be clear: all the things I need to do.
1. there is practically no Valentine-ry happening around here, which is not acceptable unto me. Why? are you trying to tell me I watch too much TV and that I wasted the weekend in a daze of detective novels? Well shut up, you might be right, but I need that television and those novels. I NEED THEM. (she says emphatically.)
2. grading.
3. helping people finish their digital stories.
4. more grading.
5. helping with this and that work project, drafting documents, etczzzzzzzzz
Is this whiny? Well shut you, you might be right. I can't help it. Listen: I felt dizzy before I even sat up this morning.
This cannot stand, man. Obviously, I have to make some cupcakes. With sprinkles on them. That's obviously Job One. Or I could grade. ORrrrrrr I could watch a little television and finish my Icelandic police procedural.
The nice thing, though, is that out of this unpromising start to the day, I got it together, sort of. On my way to work, I bought that Starbucks oatmeal that someone in some magazine said was meh but which I am kind of in love with. Is it silly to buy oatmeal at Starbucks? Well shut up, you might be right. But it did make me feel better. It helped me redeem the day. You meditate or pray in the morning, or take a walk, or what, cook oatmeal at home? I buy that oatmeal at Starbucks, and I ate it at my desk. Like you do.
Then one colleague came by--we have a standing pre-meeting before our bi-weekly discussion team meeting with the administrators (none dare call it negotiation). We talked about this and that, and then another colleague joined us. I had the occasion to reflect on the fact that I really enjoy and respect both these colleagues. Talking to them felt like a little bonus to my day. After the meeting, one of my colleagues talked me into waiting to grade (what? so much grading to do!) and going with her to grab a beverage at the Student Center. Then I worked with yet another colleague on the course we're co-developing, and chatted about this article we will/might write together (will! WILL.).
The historian has a friend who says that his job working at the university gives him psychic income. That's what my day was filled with: opportunities to work with people I respect and enjoy, conversations that give me things to think about, the chance to think and talk about ideas and texts. The fact that my job gives me the chance to discover new things all the time.
The psychic income just kept on coming. I picked up another book from the library. I got stuff for valentines which will have to be late, but hey! love is forever, the people. I came home and the house was so quiet. I graded in that quiet quite happily. We ate leftover spinach and feta pie (I will tell you allllll about it tomorrow). We took the dog for a walk in the dark.
And sometime soon, I will make cupcakes. Oh yes! there will be cupcakes.
No, YOU shut up. :)
ReplyDeleteI also eat the Starbucks oatmeal, with the nuts and fruit and brown sugar. And I pat myself on the back (well, as close as I can reach) for passing on the maple scone and apple fritter.
I occasionally get some of that psychic income from my poetry class, boy howdy. I had a student presenting a poem the other day from our anthology that mentioned the Fibonacci sequence, and she talked about how she was so swept up by the poem and by the chance to just immerse herself in it that she went all Google on Fibonacci,and while she was at it, the word pythia, and how that led to Delphi and then to physics--and she just nearly burst with how any poem that could do that to her was magical and how stuff like that is what makes life okay. And we should have just ended class right then because, yes, yes, yes.
Psychic. Income. I will focus on that through the day of days. I will chant it. I will incant it until it is in my heart. And eat more oats.
ReplyDeleteradagast, I love this story about the student and the poem. LOVE. remind me to tell you a happy story about a creative writing class--equally heartwarming. I love, despite everything, that alchemy that sometimes occurs with writing. It makes everything worth it, literally everything.
ReplyDeleteI, too, will focus on psychic income through the coming days. That and, of course, cupcakes. And maybe also oatmeal.
ReplyDeletehey! love is forever. Of course it is, not just one day. And what says love more than cupcakes with sprinkles. love this post.
ReplyDeleteLove this post. And love the story from Radagast and all that pithiness. Also love the idea of psychic income -- I think I need that kind of job.
ReplyDelete