I swear to you, I'm here, and I'm still blogging. I've just been swept up in that tornado of back-to-school activity. First, buying stuff for the kids and trying to encourage them that "School will be great!" all the while thinking: "Yeah. School pretty much sucks until you're in college. Then it's fun." And I start my new teaching gig at a new college, which just happens to be my alma mater.
I'm seeing the ghost of my twenty-year-old self EVERYWHERE. She's breathing down my neck. She is thinner and has better skin than I do, but I dress better because she's so poor that she considers breadsticks a meal. Actually, I consider breadsticks a meal too. It’s weird, though, seeing who you were and remembering who you THOUGHT you’d be, and comparing that to who you ARE. I really thought I’d be a Famous Author. Instead, I wear mom jeans (when I wear pants at all. Not that I’m PANTLESS, but you know how I feel about dressing like I’m going to do yoga even though I never do.)
Anyway. Teaching at a new place has required me to analyze everything I do in my approach to talking about writing…and everything about who I am as a person. There are definite drawbacks to being sensitive and neurotic. Your brain and self-doubt never shut up. (My brain says: “You need to read more!” and “Seriously? You want to do THAT as an exercise?” and “Who do you think you are?”) Still, I got those mofo-ing syllabi done, and I have some new ideas…so if the students will just go along with me a bit, maybe it’ll work out.
Stress makes me ugly. Not like I’m all hunchbacky and witch-like, but I feel that way. Kealoha is doing a great job of dealing with me. I don’t even SEE him drinking a lot of mai tais to allow him to deal with me; he just naturally endures it, or gets drunk in private. We’re both hoping my mood will pass. I’m just…stressed.
So. Blugh. I’m here. I’m a little annoying right now. But pretty soon, I’ll be back with ridiculous scenes and other things. I have evil plans for the blog. Hopefully, plans that will take it in a little more of a creative direction. I still have some creative juices left flowing in me. Wait. Did I just say “creative juices flowing in me”? Ew. That sounds gross and dirty and makes me want to take a shower. I’ll go do that now.