Fall semester: day seventy-three
I guess I'm okay, really. I felt like hell for a large part of the day yesterday (never worse, though, than when I was teaching my two classes). My students were worried about me and my possible kidney problems, as they're a bunch of cool nerdy guys and, well, adore me. Still, I powered through everything admirably and was able to teach their workshop sessions just fine, despite the fact that I was not exactly feeling my best.
When I came home, I used most of the rest of my gift certificate balance on Amazon (from getting the Visa card through them) to order a bottle of concentrated cranberry/urinary tract health vitamins to be shipped to me ASAP, in case it is something to do with my kidneys. As I said, I'm still not sure whether it's a kidney infection/stone or if I just tweaked a muscle in my back (badly) right in that area. Regardless, the vitamins can't hurt, really.
My friend Justin told me that drinking aloe vera juice (apparently available in health food or vitamin stores) will break up kidney stones and turn them to jelly so that they can be passed easily, but obviously I can't verify this and I don't happen to keep aloe vera juice on hand. He said someone in his family used it to cure theirs, so that's a pretty reliable testimonial. Justin's no bullshitter; in fact, he's probably one of the most intelligent men I've ever met. So, if this starts to get worse (or if I can verify that it is, yes, a stone of some sort) then I'll be limping my ass to the GNC store to get myself some aloe vera juice. After all, that's much cheaper than invasive surgery or lithotripsy.
It's not that I have an aversion to medical care, in case you were wondering. It's that I'm very, very poor and going to the hospital or to a doctor is one of those things that I try to avoid unless I've lost a limb (which, so far, hasn't happened). This is because I can't pay for it, and because to get medical fees waived because I'm so poor, it's an incredibly brutal hassle usually involving applications to different charities or proving that I'm poor in several other ways involving pay stubs (which I don't get, as everything from Flat State University is all electronic), etc etc. It's just a pain in the ass.
This is why I was a huge supporter of universal healthcare and the "public option" that Obama tried to push through several months back. Nobody should have to go bankrupt because they get sick, I'm sorry. That's just my views on the subject, and I've always had those views.
However, right now I'm feeling mostly fine. I got a good night of sleep (well, if you want to call 5PM to 1AM a "night" of sleep) and I just took a scalding hot shower to warm up and stay that way.
Anyway.
I got another email from my mother asking me to come home over Christmas -- something that I'd love to be able to do, obviously, but I once more declined. It's just not really feasible for me to do this year, and December is the worst time to up and leave the state for a few days, monetarily as well as personally. I do have a lot of things to do here in Kansas over the short break between the semesters, despite the fact that I'm looking forward to a lot of rest-and-relaxation time as well -- I have to take care of the household stuff I've been putting off (like cleaning off the back deck, cleaning out the rest of the garage, and cleaning the carpets somehow) as well as the school-related preparatory stuff like getting my lesson plans all revised and in order for the spring, and doing some of the stuff I need to do for the car, whatever I can afford at the time -- such as getting the oil changed and/or seeing how much money it will be to put new tires on that behemoth landboat of mine. Not to mention that I desperately need to be working on the revisions of both of my books so that I can get them on sale (again, for the first one) as soon as possible, and can resume making some money off of them. All of these factors/problems combined mean that despite the fact that I won't be in class for about three weeks or so, I'll still be quite busy, and there's not much I can do about that -- I have to take care of things when I have time to do them, and the winter break allows me to take care of some (but not all) of them.
Instead, I told my mother to set up a trip for me to fly out there over Spring Break. During that time, as I have a relatively easy spring semester, I shouldn't have a whole lot to do, and as a graduate student who only has to be on campus Tues/Wed/Thurs every week, my break is longer than most students have. Spring Break is March 19 through the 25th, I believe, and I'll start my own break on the 16th. I told her if she wants to set up a trip during that week, I'd be more than happy to come out during that time, as I don't foresee any problems or anything coming up during that time, to be honest. Plus, if she sets up that trip now, it'll be much cheaper than setting up a short trip over Christmas, as she'll be doing it so far in advance. It's about as much as I can do right now, to be honest. I usually can't even look that far in advance when it comes to work and when it comes to the semester itself. The only reason I can this time around is because I already know when/where I'll be teaching next semester, and I know what classes I'll be taking and what work they'll entail.
Anyway, I'll have to wait and see what she says to that proposition. Like I said, that's about all I can commit to -- but that, at least, is a solid commitment.
In other news, starting yesterday afternoon, the meteorologists out here have begun predicting what could be a "major winter event" for Saturday. When they say this, it usually means an ice storm or snowstorm, though they're already cautioning that it's "way too early to make any sort of accumulation predictions yet." Indeed, it has become very winterlike here in Kansas this week; right now it's 25 degrees outside, and because of that it probably means I'll have to let the car warm up a little longer this morning when I leave for campus, as well as scrape off the windows first. Luckily, during my trip to Walmart last week, I had the foresight to spend $3 on one of those long scraper/brush combo tools for car windows. I knew I'd need one at some point; this sort of weather just solidifies it.
The car was running a little rougher than usual yesterday, though that's probably because it hasn't made one of its customary trips to Wichita and back in almost two weeks. Depending on how cold it gets tonight after my drive home from campus at 10PM, I may stick it in the garage for the overnight hours. I don't want to make it run any harder than it has to, for obvious reasons. I probably should have garaged it last night as well.
The packages coming to me from Andrea were in Las Vegas yesterday, when she checked. I've got a few smaller ones of my own coming to me today and tomorrow, so maybe they'll arrive with those. I'm excited to see what her early birthday/Christmas presents for me are, despite the fact that -- again -- she didn't and doesn't have to do anything for me whatsoever.
Today will be a strange day, I'm guessing; while I have some small tasks to take care of this morning (grading a few papers/rewrites for my students, reading leisurely through the Calvino book), most of my work for the semester -- as you know -- is done, so it's not like I have anything to spend a lot of time working on, to be completely honest with you. I'll probably make my trip over to the library to rent some movies early this morning, for lack of anything absolutely pressing to do. Maybe I can get Suri to go with me if she gets to campus early, but I doubt it. When I have relatively few things to do, it makes the long day even longer. If I were tired in the least, I'd go back to bed for a few hours and venture into campus late (as I don't have class until 1:30). I'm not, though; my dirty energy of coffee is flowing through my veins even now, so I'd rather not be forced to fight for a parking space if I were to go in later than usual. Plus, I don't get any work done at home on weekdays, what with my fast computer, music, podcasts, and cats to distract me. At least today signifies the last of my real work for the majority of my classes this semester -- I get to turn in my Mrs Dalloway paper as well as my poetry portfolio.
An added bonus is that I don't have to drive across town tonight for workshop -- because we're doing the department evaluations (or SPTEs, as they're known) for our professor, we're having class in the normal room for the first time since, oh, September-ish. Probably early September, at that. While it means I'll spend about six hours total in that room today, I don't really mind it. I actually rather like that classroom, to be honest.
On a more amusing note, I found out yesterday that the "practice grading sessions" for the 102 final have already come and gone, and I was left out of them -- though apparently purely by accident.
Let me fill you in a little more on the details -- at the end of every semester, all of us GTAs are made to sit down in what they call "practice grading sessions," usually as part of the practicum for whatever class we're teaching (if it's a composition course). We're given example finals from years past, and we give them a score of 1-5 (just like the actual final) and talk about why we gave it that score in a sort of round-table discussion. Because I'm teaching the Science/Engineering 102 course, however, there's not a real practicum for that -- I meet with my supervisor once a week, or less, and talk about how the class is going and get new materials or ideas for discussion from her. Due to this fact, I received an email a few weeks ago that said my practice grading sessions this semester would take place with the normal 102 folks so that I could attend at least some sessions. I understood this and thought nothing of it, figuring that we'd find out when the practice grading sessions were, around, say, this week sometime, as we just now found out when and where our final exams will be held, and usually the practice session info is given out around that time as well.
In a conversation with the former girlfriend yesterday morning, however, I found that their last practice grading session (usually one for people who have missed one of the other two) was yesterday.
"That's weird," I said. "I'm supposed to do it with [102 director], but I haven't heard anything about when she's doing it yet."
"Um...you might want to ask, then," she told me. "You could have missed all of them."
Great, I thought. The last thing I want is to be on any sort of bad terms with the 102 director -- who, ironically, adores me, but cannot stand the former girlfriend because of all the fights the two of them used to have.
When my officemate came in, a guy who teaches the normal 102 and therefore would know about the practice sessions, I asked him whether they'd already taken place.
"Yep," he said. "I think they're all already done, to be honest."
"When did you do them?" I asked.
"During our normal practicum session, Tuesdays at 2."
Well, that figures, I thought. On Tuesdays at 2, I've already been home for well over an hour; I leave right after I'm done teaching class. No wonder nobody ever told me about them.
I stopped our esteemed Director for a few minutes and asked him, basically, if it was something I should worry about, or if I was going to be in any sort of administrative trouble for missing said sessions.
"No," he replied, "don't worry about it. At this point it's not like you don't know how to grade a final exam. I'm guessing it was just an oversight that you were left out of the loop because you're teaching that Engineering course. It's the same sort of exam, you know; you just have to metaphorically 'step up your game' in regards to grading on 102 standards."
"That's what I thought," I said. "I'll talk to [102 director] about it; hopefully she won't be miffed at me."
Judging from the pleasant conversations I've had with the 102 director in recent weeks, I'm not even sure she's aware I was supposed to be taking her practice grading sessions with her, otherwise she probably would have mentioned something about it to me. The entire situation is slightly amusing, really; it means that I got out of something that otherwise I would've been forced to sit through.
"I don't even know what the point is for us," my officemate later told me. "It's not like we haven't done it twice before at this point anyhow."
This is true.
On that note, I must get dressed and bundle up for the cold, long day ahead of me in Wichita. I'm not looking forward to facing the cold and even colder wind this morning, but that's part of being a student with a weird schedule, I suppose...
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Recovery
Fall semester: day seventy-two
I went to bed last night around 5PM or shortly thereafter. I was exhausted; my kidney/back pain had awakened me yesterday morning after but four hours of sleep, and had my stress levels running high until it started to settle itself down somewhat. On the plus side, aside from a few twinges of pain here and there from sleeping in a weird position, the whole ordeal was able to reset my body clock and sleeping rhythms for the week, which was something I desperately needed to do anyhow. I slept until shortly after 2AM, which gave me nine solid hours of much-needed, quality sleep.
Today, however, is back to the grind, though it is now a grind much different than it was before break. These are the final two weeks of class of fall semester before Finals Week, and in the English department we will soon see a divide between two camps -- those of us who have finished most of our work over the break (like myself) and those of us who have not and who will be rushing through everything to get it done on time. The last two weeks of the semester fly by, then it's Finals Week, we give/take finals, finish up all of our grading, and then we're done. It's a mad race for everyone involved, to be honest. Remember how earlier I said that I would be busy taking care of class-related things all the way through the end of November? I wasn't lying, was I?
To be fair, I did not finish absolutely everything I intended to finish over break; while I got the two big papers and the poetry portfolio done, the three books I was planning to read remain unfinished. I read Angle of Yaw by Ben Lerner, a book assigned to us by our poetry professor (and a great one at that; you can check it out here), but I've only read about 1/3 of Italo Calvino's If on a winter's night a traveler, and haven't yet touched the last novel for our Middle Eastern/Asian Lit course, Anil's Ghost by Michael Ondaatje. Suri says that both books are rather blah, though I do have time over the course of the next two weeks to slowly work through them as they are the last two novels for my two respective lit courses this semester -- and with the papers done, all that's left to do is leisurely read them.
As for how I feel? Eh, I guess I'm okay. My back is still bothering me a little bit around the kidney area, but it's nothing major and certainly isn't hurting me like it did yesterday. I think a hot shower in an hour or so should soothe me, especially if it's a muscular thing. I have resumed eating/drinking normally, with hopes that whatever it is, especially if it's a kidney stone, will pass (literally as well as figuratively). Regardless, for the most part, I think I'm just fine. The cats, being able to sense that I was not feeling well, almost immediately glomped on me as soon as I went to bed last night, and covered me in their furry warmth. Pete even snuggled with me under the covers like a teddy bear at my side, something that he hasn't done in months.
My day will consist of normal Tuesday stuff -- teaching my classes (this is workshop week for them, so I don't even really have to "teach" anything) and coming home, doing a few things around the house, et cetera. The workload for the rest of the semester now, at least for me, is rather light (as I implied earlier). I won't be sleeping much for the next two weeks, obviously, but I never do during the semester. Tomorrow I'll turn in my Mrs Dalloway paper and my poetry portfolio, and Thursday I will turn in my Midnight's Children paper, officially ending all of the work that I started last week. At some point -- probably tomorrow -- I need to make a trip over to the library to "rent" some movies. I may be able to do that this morning if I have enough time, but I doubt it.
My mother, concerned with my health after yesterday's kidney episode, told me that if she knew I'd been forced to let my health insurance lapse for the semester due to my budget, she would have paid it for me -- especially since, after yesterday, it became apparent that I might need it at some point. In lieu of that, at some point this week she's told me she'll drop my birthday/Christmas money into my bank account for me, which is usually a fairly substantial sum. I hope it's a lot this year; my car insurance -- which, as you may already know, comes due around Christmas -- is $300 alone. Not exactly a small sum by any means for a guy like me living on a tight budget for the next six weeks or so. She asked me when I wanted her to deposit the money, and I told her the sooner the better, as I just wrote out/mailed the next rent check.
She also told me she's preparing me a Christmas box of stuff again, like she always does. Truthfully I do greatly appreciate this, though shipping a huge box of things from West Virginia to Kansas is murder on postage rates. And as much as I love her giant bags of homemade Chex Mix (I told her to stuff as many bags into the box as humanly possible) it would probably be cheaper overall for her, or for anyone else in my family, to pick a few things off my Amazon Christmas List or my regular Wish List. At least the shipping is added/calculated there by Amazon itself.
Andrea has gotten me at least two things for Christmas already, despite the fact that she doesn't have to get me anything at all (as she's almost as poor as I am due to paying back her student loans every month, a situation I'll be in myself once I graduate), but I'm not sure what they are. Truthfully, I'd rather not know until they get here, even though the suspense is killing me. She called them "Birthday/Christmas/get better presents," referencing my illness yesterday. I, of course, still have a massive mailer envelope in the spare room here with her name/address on it, but I haven't been able to mail out any of that stuff yet -- like I said, I just paid the rent, and my finances are at a low point right now, as I don't get paid again until the 9th.
I mentioned briefly before that I applied for, and was approved for, the Amazon Visa card. It's an actual Visa credit card, with Amazon branding. Apparently if I use it on Amazon itself, I get Amazon "points" which are basically credits toward free stuff on the site, or something. Who knows; I didn't really pay attention to that because it's not incredibly important to me. What I do know is that the card has a $400 credit limit, which apparently gets raised over time if it gets used and paid off continually. More than anything else, I'll probably start using it first for gas for the Monte Carlo, so that the money spent on said gas isn't a continual drain on my bank account. Maybe some groceries, too. My credit score as of September (which was the last time it was checked) was 647 or something like that, which isn't bad but not exemplary, either.
I received the card in the mail last week and I haven't even activated it yet. Yes, I'll do that soon, of course. What's interesting, though, is that just by applying I received a $40 gift certificate to Amazon itself, automatically applied to my account there. And yesterday was Cyber Monday. Because of that gift certificate balance, I was able to purchase one of the two books required for my Editing class next semester, as well as a Justice League DVD and The Departed (which no, I still haven't seen) for free, with free shipping. I still have about $8 left on the balance, too.
The credit card itself, however, is going to be used primarily for emergency situations -- as in, times when I need to take care of something in a crisis and can't otherwise pay for it, such as if a tire blows on my car or if the radiator (or any other major components) goes out. I'm hoping to be able to scrape together enough cash on my own to get the car new tires within the next few weeks or months, but if not, I'll use it for that as well. It just depends on how things go. Knowing I have money coming to me soon from several different places is reassuring, yes, but I still have to focus on the day-to-day until it actually comes in.
In other news, we finally learned yesterday when our students' final exams are, and what rooms we'll be in for them. The exams for all of the English Department's composition classes, mine included, are on Monday, December 12 from 1PM to 2:50PM. That's the first full weekday of Finals Week, and I also believe that's the way they did them last spring and last fall as well, though I can't remember (by the time we hit Finals Week, all of us GTAs are understandably functioning on low-power and our minds are addled). The final day for the entering of grades is December 20 -- my birthday, and this year, a Tuesday. I should have all of my stuff/grading taken care of by then, easily. As foretold, all four sections of the Science/Engineering Writing classes (two of which are mine) have their own room for the exam, and a different exam than the normal composition 101/102 students. This year, however, while giving the exam I shall be intelligent and take my DS with me, as I have to sit there for two hours and would rather not stare down my students while they're taking said exam, if it can be avoided.
So that's about all that's going on. I'm feeling much better, I'm headed back to school this morning, most of my work is done, and I still have half of a Papa John's pizza left over from the weekend (as well as a big pot of spaghetti) to feed me over the course of the next few days. For the moment, at least, everything is looking up. As you know, I'm ever looking forward to the end of the semester so that I can continue with my relaxation time.
I went to bed last night around 5PM or shortly thereafter. I was exhausted; my kidney/back pain had awakened me yesterday morning after but four hours of sleep, and had my stress levels running high until it started to settle itself down somewhat. On the plus side, aside from a few twinges of pain here and there from sleeping in a weird position, the whole ordeal was able to reset my body clock and sleeping rhythms for the week, which was something I desperately needed to do anyhow. I slept until shortly after 2AM, which gave me nine solid hours of much-needed, quality sleep.
Today, however, is back to the grind, though it is now a grind much different than it was before break. These are the final two weeks of class of fall semester before Finals Week, and in the English department we will soon see a divide between two camps -- those of us who have finished most of our work over the break (like myself) and those of us who have not and who will be rushing through everything to get it done on time. The last two weeks of the semester fly by, then it's Finals Week, we give/take finals, finish up all of our grading, and then we're done. It's a mad race for everyone involved, to be honest. Remember how earlier I said that I would be busy taking care of class-related things all the way through the end of November? I wasn't lying, was I?
To be fair, I did not finish absolutely everything I intended to finish over break; while I got the two big papers and the poetry portfolio done, the three books I was planning to read remain unfinished. I read Angle of Yaw by Ben Lerner, a book assigned to us by our poetry professor (and a great one at that; you can check it out here), but I've only read about 1/3 of Italo Calvino's If on a winter's night a traveler, and haven't yet touched the last novel for our Middle Eastern/Asian Lit course, Anil's Ghost by Michael Ondaatje. Suri says that both books are rather blah, though I do have time over the course of the next two weeks to slowly work through them as they are the last two novels for my two respective lit courses this semester -- and with the papers done, all that's left to do is leisurely read them.
As for how I feel? Eh, I guess I'm okay. My back is still bothering me a little bit around the kidney area, but it's nothing major and certainly isn't hurting me like it did yesterday. I think a hot shower in an hour or so should soothe me, especially if it's a muscular thing. I have resumed eating/drinking normally, with hopes that whatever it is, especially if it's a kidney stone, will pass (literally as well as figuratively). Regardless, for the most part, I think I'm just fine. The cats, being able to sense that I was not feeling well, almost immediately glomped on me as soon as I went to bed last night, and covered me in their furry warmth. Pete even snuggled with me under the covers like a teddy bear at my side, something that he hasn't done in months.
My day will consist of normal Tuesday stuff -- teaching my classes (this is workshop week for them, so I don't even really have to "teach" anything) and coming home, doing a few things around the house, et cetera. The workload for the rest of the semester now, at least for me, is rather light (as I implied earlier). I won't be sleeping much for the next two weeks, obviously, but I never do during the semester. Tomorrow I'll turn in my Mrs Dalloway paper and my poetry portfolio, and Thursday I will turn in my Midnight's Children paper, officially ending all of the work that I started last week. At some point -- probably tomorrow -- I need to make a trip over to the library to "rent" some movies. I may be able to do that this morning if I have enough time, but I doubt it.
My mother, concerned with my health after yesterday's kidney episode, told me that if she knew I'd been forced to let my health insurance lapse for the semester due to my budget, she would have paid it for me -- especially since, after yesterday, it became apparent that I might need it at some point. In lieu of that, at some point this week she's told me she'll drop my birthday/Christmas money into my bank account for me, which is usually a fairly substantial sum. I hope it's a lot this year; my car insurance -- which, as you may already know, comes due around Christmas -- is $300 alone. Not exactly a small sum by any means for a guy like me living on a tight budget for the next six weeks or so. She asked me when I wanted her to deposit the money, and I told her the sooner the better, as I just wrote out/mailed the next rent check.
She also told me she's preparing me a Christmas box of stuff again, like she always does. Truthfully I do greatly appreciate this, though shipping a huge box of things from West Virginia to Kansas is murder on postage rates. And as much as I love her giant bags of homemade Chex Mix (I told her to stuff as many bags into the box as humanly possible) it would probably be cheaper overall for her, or for anyone else in my family, to pick a few things off my Amazon Christmas List or my regular Wish List. At least the shipping is added/calculated there by Amazon itself.
Andrea has gotten me at least two things for Christmas already, despite the fact that she doesn't have to get me anything at all (as she's almost as poor as I am due to paying back her student loans every month, a situation I'll be in myself once I graduate), but I'm not sure what they are. Truthfully, I'd rather not know until they get here, even though the suspense is killing me. She called them "Birthday/Christmas/get better presents," referencing my illness yesterday. I, of course, still have a massive mailer envelope in the spare room here with her name/address on it, but I haven't been able to mail out any of that stuff yet -- like I said, I just paid the rent, and my finances are at a low point right now, as I don't get paid again until the 9th.
I mentioned briefly before that I applied for, and was approved for, the Amazon Visa card. It's an actual Visa credit card, with Amazon branding. Apparently if I use it on Amazon itself, I get Amazon "points" which are basically credits toward free stuff on the site, or something. Who knows; I didn't really pay attention to that because it's not incredibly important to me. What I do know is that the card has a $400 credit limit, which apparently gets raised over time if it gets used and paid off continually. More than anything else, I'll probably start using it first for gas for the Monte Carlo, so that the money spent on said gas isn't a continual drain on my bank account. Maybe some groceries, too. My credit score as of September (which was the last time it was checked) was 647 or something like that, which isn't bad but not exemplary, either.
I received the card in the mail last week and I haven't even activated it yet. Yes, I'll do that soon, of course. What's interesting, though, is that just by applying I received a $40 gift certificate to Amazon itself, automatically applied to my account there. And yesterday was Cyber Monday. Because of that gift certificate balance, I was able to purchase one of the two books required for my Editing class next semester, as well as a Justice League DVD and The Departed (which no, I still haven't seen) for free, with free shipping. I still have about $8 left on the balance, too.
The credit card itself, however, is going to be used primarily for emergency situations -- as in, times when I need to take care of something in a crisis and can't otherwise pay for it, such as if a tire blows on my car or if the radiator (or any other major components) goes out. I'm hoping to be able to scrape together enough cash on my own to get the car new tires within the next few weeks or months, but if not, I'll use it for that as well. It just depends on how things go. Knowing I have money coming to me soon from several different places is reassuring, yes, but I still have to focus on the day-to-day until it actually comes in.
In other news, we finally learned yesterday when our students' final exams are, and what rooms we'll be in for them. The exams for all of the English Department's composition classes, mine included, are on Monday, December 12 from 1PM to 2:50PM. That's the first full weekday of Finals Week, and I also believe that's the way they did them last spring and last fall as well, though I can't remember (by the time we hit Finals Week, all of us GTAs are understandably functioning on low-power and our minds are addled). The final day for the entering of grades is December 20 -- my birthday, and this year, a Tuesday. I should have all of my stuff/grading taken care of by then, easily. As foretold, all four sections of the Science/Engineering Writing classes (two of which are mine) have their own room for the exam, and a different exam than the normal composition 101/102 students. This year, however, while giving the exam I shall be intelligent and take my DS with me, as I have to sit there for two hours and would rather not stare down my students while they're taking said exam, if it can be avoided.
So that's about all that's going on. I'm feeling much better, I'm headed back to school this morning, most of my work is done, and I still have half of a Papa John's pizza left over from the weekend (as well as a big pot of spaghetti) to feed me over the course of the next few days. For the moment, at least, everything is looking up. As you know, I'm ever looking forward to the end of the semester so that I can continue with my relaxation time.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Crisis Situation...?
Fall semester: day seventy-one
Thanksgiving break: day eleven (final day off)
I awoke this morning feeling...well, strange.
For one, all of my ab/back muscles were locked up. Super-tense. Could-hardly-move tense. I had no idea why. I got up to pee, and realized the culprit -- I had pain. And not just any pain, but localized pain...around my left kidney area. And it wasn't pleasant.
Shit.
As you folks may or may not know, the former girlfriend was plagued with kidney stones, and over the six years we were together she had at least three, if not four, operations to remove or break them up. Because of this, I very quickly became well aware of the kidney stone warning signs years ago, even though I've never had one myself. Pain, nausea, chills/fever, sometimes vomiting, etc. Depends on the stones involved and if they're moving, really.
I laid back down, very painfully, and assessed the situation in my mind. No fever; I could tell that much at least. No nausea or vomiting either. Just pain, and -- because my muscles were so tensed up (and it's cold downstairs in the bedroom), chills. Hm.
Immediately, these thoughts ran through my head, in this precise order:
1. Of course this had to happen on the LAST day of my vacation, not the first.
2. I need to get up, get dressed, see if I can get upstairs to my phone.
3. I so, so don't have the money for an ER visit.
4. Why, oh why, did I let my health insurance lapse this semester?
5. Because I'm incredibly super-poor, that's why.
6. Am I even able to get up and get dressed?
7. If I have to go to the hospital, I'll have to cancel classes this week.
8. What does that mean for my own classes? I've already written the papers.
9. Fuck, I *really* don't have the money for an ER visit.
10. What if it's cancer? Kidney cancer? Fuck.
11. Goddammit, muscles, stop tensing up, I can't move.
12. "Hi Maggiebaby, hi Sadiegirl. Daddy hurts."
13. Okay. Game plan: get dressed, get upstairs, call former girlfriend, if necessary; she'll know what to do.
And finally, I thought: renal failure is probably a pretty nasty way to die, but I've heard of worse.
As much as both of us may dislike it, even though we're on friendly terms, both I and the former girlfriend know that she's the only person I have in this entire state who I implicitly trust and can rely on for, as she herself calls it, a "reality check."
So. I got up again. Painfully. I got dressed. Painfully. I walked upstairs very slowly, also painfully. Most of the pain was coming from my tensed, locked muscles, which were overriding everything else. Pain stabbed at me hard from my kidney area whenever I moved in a certain way, though -- enough to make me yelp loudly and draw the attention of my big boy kitty, Pete, who stared at me as if I were from another planet. I stumbled into my room and sat down in my chair. Okay, I'm at my desk now. I have my phone. Let's see what happens. I immediately began drinking water, despite the fact that I was not thirsty. It's supposed to help.
I posted a message on Facebook and Twitter, and the message was thus: "I may have to go to the hospital today (the ER, not the psych ward). Stay tuned for updates. Also, this sucks."
I thought it important to clarify, as most people already think I'm nuts.
I was bombarded by friends and family members asking for explanations. When I told them what was going on, I was again bombarded by people telling me to go to the hospital -- including the former girlfriend. Meanwhile, throughout all of this, my muscles were relaxing, which allowed me to move around more and assess the pain in the area of my kidney, which was no longer as bad or stabbing. The chills had gone as well once my muscles had relaxed.
I sent my mother an email saying "Hey, I may have to go to the hospital today, but I hope not," or something to that effect.
My kidney area was aching and hurting, dully, this was certain. However, I was unable to figure out whether it was actually my kidney or whether it was muscular. I still don't know, to be honest. What I do know is that by a little after noon, it was feeling a lot better, and by a little after 1PM, the kidney-ish pain had waned even more. Now, as it's a little before 2PM, I can still feel it just a little bit, but it's about 95% gone.
How weird.
So, it doesn't look like I'll have to go to the hospital after all. At least not today. Hopefully.
I swear, this "getting old" shit is for the birds, man.
Thanksgiving break: day eleven (final day off)
I awoke this morning feeling...well, strange.
For one, all of my ab/back muscles were locked up. Super-tense. Could-hardly-move tense. I had no idea why. I got up to pee, and realized the culprit -- I had pain. And not just any pain, but localized pain...around my left kidney area. And it wasn't pleasant.
Shit.
As you folks may or may not know, the former girlfriend was plagued with kidney stones, and over the six years we were together she had at least three, if not four, operations to remove or break them up. Because of this, I very quickly became well aware of the kidney stone warning signs years ago, even though I've never had one myself. Pain, nausea, chills/fever, sometimes vomiting, etc. Depends on the stones involved and if they're moving, really.
I laid back down, very painfully, and assessed the situation in my mind. No fever; I could tell that much at least. No nausea or vomiting either. Just pain, and -- because my muscles were so tensed up (and it's cold downstairs in the bedroom), chills. Hm.
Immediately, these thoughts ran through my head, in this precise order:
1. Of course this had to happen on the LAST day of my vacation, not the first.
2. I need to get up, get dressed, see if I can get upstairs to my phone.
3. I so, so don't have the money for an ER visit.
4. Why, oh why, did I let my health insurance lapse this semester?
5. Because I'm incredibly super-poor, that's why.
6. Am I even able to get up and get dressed?
7. If I have to go to the hospital, I'll have to cancel classes this week.
8. What does that mean for my own classes? I've already written the papers.
9. Fuck, I *really* don't have the money for an ER visit.
10. What if it's cancer? Kidney cancer? Fuck.
11. Goddammit, muscles, stop tensing up, I can't move.
12. "Hi Maggiebaby, hi Sadiegirl. Daddy hurts."
13. Okay. Game plan: get dressed, get upstairs, call former girlfriend, if necessary; she'll know what to do.
And finally, I thought: renal failure is probably a pretty nasty way to die, but I've heard of worse.
As much as both of us may dislike it, even though we're on friendly terms, both I and the former girlfriend know that she's the only person I have in this entire state who I implicitly trust and can rely on for, as she herself calls it, a "reality check."
So. I got up again. Painfully. I got dressed. Painfully. I walked upstairs very slowly, also painfully. Most of the pain was coming from my tensed, locked muscles, which were overriding everything else. Pain stabbed at me hard from my kidney area whenever I moved in a certain way, though -- enough to make me yelp loudly and draw the attention of my big boy kitty, Pete, who stared at me as if I were from another planet. I stumbled into my room and sat down in my chair. Okay, I'm at my desk now. I have my phone. Let's see what happens. I immediately began drinking water, despite the fact that I was not thirsty. It's supposed to help.
I posted a message on Facebook and Twitter, and the message was thus: "I may have to go to the hospital today (the ER, not the psych ward). Stay tuned for updates. Also, this sucks."
I thought it important to clarify, as most people already think I'm nuts.
I was bombarded by friends and family members asking for explanations. When I told them what was going on, I was again bombarded by people telling me to go to the hospital -- including the former girlfriend. Meanwhile, throughout all of this, my muscles were relaxing, which allowed me to move around more and assess the pain in the area of my kidney, which was no longer as bad or stabbing. The chills had gone as well once my muscles had relaxed.
I sent my mother an email saying "Hey, I may have to go to the hospital today, but I hope not," or something to that effect.
My kidney area was aching and hurting, dully, this was certain. However, I was unable to figure out whether it was actually my kidney or whether it was muscular. I still don't know, to be honest. What I do know is that by a little after noon, it was feeling a lot better, and by a little after 1PM, the kidney-ish pain had waned even more. Now, as it's a little before 2PM, I can still feel it just a little bit, but it's about 95% gone.
How weird.
So, it doesn't look like I'll have to go to the hospital after all. At least not today. Hopefully.
I swear, this "getting old" shit is for the birds, man.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
The Release
Thanksgiving Break: day nine
After Thursday night's 13-hour paper session, I slept Friday afternoon until 2PM. It was hard-earned. I deserved it. Yet it was fitful sleep, and I was unable to get any real, substantial rest.
I had a dream that I was married, happy, and driving a Honda. "A Honda? Wait a minute," I said to myself in my dream, and then I woke up.
One must find the humor in the fact that I didn't question being happy and married, but being affluent enough to drive a Honda was enough to make me question the dream and wake up from it. You'd think it would be the other way around: "Happy? Married? Wait a minute." At least the Honda is somewhat plausible, eventually.
Because, again, I am a horrible person, and don't exactly expect myself to be happy or married anytime soon. But then again, you probably already knew that.
Last night offered me a little scary excitement; at 9:45PM, as I had just stepped out of the shower, I heard someone pounding loudly on my door (which door, I'm not sure, as I was in the bathroom). I threw on my clothes, as if someone is pounding on the door that late at night, in the middle of a rainstorm, no less -- it's probably important.
I was at the door roughly fifteen seconds after the last knock. And nobody was there. I went out onto the balcony. Nope. Nobody anywhere around the house. Not a sound, nothing.
I went back inside and went to the downstairs door and went out. Nobody around anywhere. Car appeared to be fine, as well. Strange. And the driveway's motion light was off -- if someone had come up the driveway, it would've been on, as it stays on for about five minutes at a time. I thought it may have been the neighbors on the other side of the duplex who had knocked to ask something, but if it were them, they would've heard me come to the door even if they'd gone back inside.
Needless to say, I was perplexed and a bit confused. I wondered if I'd just imagined someone banging on the door, at least for a moment. But it was loud. Loud enough for me to hear through the bathroom door with no issue. It wasn't the cats; this was definitely distinct banging on a door, though where (or who) it was coming from was unknown.
Also needless to say, my gun spent the rest of the night with me on my desk. Yes, I do own a gun.
Interestingly enough, this exact same scenario also happened to my friend Justin a few nights ago, and he lives about 40 miles or so south of me. He owns bigger guns than I do, though.
I just found it interesting, that's all. That sort of thing hasn't happened before.
Regardless, things quieted down and I never heard any more knocking, so about two hours later -- as the rain had stopped for the moment -- I put on clothes that I could actually leave the house in, and went to Walmart to do my weekly shopping. At around midnight. I figured that around midnight on Black Friday, it would be "safe" to actually get my normal shopping done, as there was much less of a chance that I'd be run down by ham-fisted midwesterners and an even smaller chance that I'd be stuck waiting an hour in line to check out, my cold things in the cart getting warm.
I was right; midnight on Black Friday at Walmart was much like a normal night at Walmart at midnight -- namely, the place was mostly deserted. A few ladies I ran into who were stocking the shampoo section told me that Black Friday at that particular Walmart hadn't been bad at all; it was Thanksgiving night at 10PM, when the massive sale started for them, that was terrible. I found this amusing, as that was -- earlier in the week, before I had decided to write my Mrs Dalloway paper that day -- when I had originally planned to start my shopping. As I'm incredibly out-of-the-loop, I knew nothing about any special early Black Friday sales.
This is despite the fact that the Newton Kansan, the town newspaper (and the one I worked at as a reporter for over a year) gave everyone in town a free sample issue of the Thanksgiving paper, which contained all of the Black Friday ads. It was in my home for approximately one hour before one of the cats -- probably Pete, as he's an asshole -- vomited violently all over it, and it was ruined. I threw it away.
Anyway, by the time I arrived at Walmart on Friday night, there were some deals left, but not many; all but about fifteen of the $1.96 DVDs were gone, and the ones remaining didn't interest me (or I already owned them). Most of the household appliances were gone as well, but they had one singular remaining Blu-Ray player, from a reputable brand (I believe it was LG or Samsung) for $49. As much as I desperately wanted it, I could not justify spending the money on it. I am on a budget, and I need to stay on said budget. That $49 may end up being the difference of whether or not I can pay my car insurance on time and in full this time next month. So, sadly and regrettably, I did not purchase it.
As an aside, it wasn't until I got home when I realized I had already received my Amazon.com-branded Chase Visa card in the mail, and could have easily purchased it without a second thought had I taken it with me to Walmart. But I'll cover that later.
This was not an ordinary shopping trip for me; sadly, I'd run out of many things around the house in the past several weeks, and I'd put off buying them because they were either too expensive or I needed to save the money I had (because, as you recall, at the time I had no clue what was going on with my rent check). This means that not only was I out of basics like bread and milk, but also out of every conceivable form of meat in the house aside from the ham I baked earlier this week, all of the cats' stuff, every possible vegetable (canned and fresh), any sort of pasta or pasta sauce, coffee, cigarettes, allergy medicine, dishwasher detergent, and was very close to being out of soap and hair conditioner. These items, for the most part, are the mere basics of my survival as a single guy, and I've been making do without many of them -- or using them sparingly as they slowly ran out -- because of the budget I've been on. Therefore, I was determined that as long as I had a little extra money in my bank account this week (for I just got paid) these were things that I needed to get now before I could no longer afford to -- say, around this time next month, when all the bills are due as well as my car insurance.
Again, as an aside: doing rough calculations and shopping only when absolutely necessary, I should be able to squeak by through the end of the year and survive into the first week or two of 2012, after which the other half of my student loan money should come through and I won't have to worry as much about staying on an incredibly tight budget anymore. Hopefully.
So. After midnight at Walmart, I went down the list I'd written and began acquiring items. Most of these items weren't small purchases. I couldn't really help that, to be honest. Halfway through my trip I began rationalizing about what I really needed and what could wait until I had more money. It sucks that I have to do this, but I'm poor. I ended up only getting about 2/3 of the items on my original shopping list, resigning myself to the fact that some of them I would be forced to simply do without for the foreseeable future -- which, if I didn't feel poor and pathetic enough already, that made it worse. My grand total, when all was said and done: $170.14. And that hurt. Really it did. But it also means I won't have to do any grocery shopping for another several weeks, aside from small things like cat food/litter (which they go through quickly) and cigarettes (which I go through even more quickly). But I now have enough food and other household items on which to survive for a long time, which is good in some sense, I suppose.
I did splurge on one item that I probably shouldn't have, but it's the only thing I've done for myself in months -- Walmart had the new Shout Factory-produced 15th Anniversary reissues of Beast Wars on DVD, seasons 2 and 3 (read: the ones I didn't have already), and I bought them. I spent hours last night, until almost 5AM, watching the entirety of season 2, and started season 3 this afternoon. Haven't seen the series in probably ten years or so. It holds up, and holds up well.
Why was I able to do this, you may ask? Well, aside from the whole I just needed to get myself something that would make me a little happier in my life thing, it is because after finishing my papers for the semester, I have little-to-nothing left to write, or do, in regards to my own coursework between now and finals week. This leaves me with a grand sense of release, more than anything else. Of course, I'll still have to study for my Middle Eastern/Asian lit final, and read the last two books for both that class and my Fiction class, but other than that, there's virtually nothing of importance left for me to do this semester aside from grading my students' stuff. This afternoon, I used some of my Papa Points and ordered pizza, and took great pride in doing little but being fat and nerdy for several hours. As you probably know if you've been reading this blog for any stretch of time, free time for me is very rare, and very prized when I have it. This week, as you know, I have earned it.
I've had very little contact with the outside world since break started aside from a few short emails back and forth with Suri and one or two from my parents. Most of my friends are still out of town -- hell, Zedral's been in Hawaii all week -- and have been offline as well. The few I've talked to online are either undergrads with horrific retail jobs (especially horrific this week), or are friends back home who are no longer in school, like Andrea. I think I'm becoming increasingly isolated and hermit-like as a person, which doesn't necessarily bother me as much as it probably should.
My journey through my own mind continues when I have time off, of course; like it or not, I end up thinking about all sorts of things. This you already know. I think about family and friends, about loneliness and my capacity for love. I let potential dating interests wander in and out of my mind, weighing pros and cons against each other. I think about survival, I think about my creative work and where I'm going with it, and I spend way too much time thinking about my financial situation and my very, very unstable future. I think about my grades. I think about the fellowship positions that will open up in the spring. I think about my beautiful Dean electric guitar that I haven't touched in months, sitting across the room from me. But mostly, I think about things that I wanted to be doing, or wanted to be, as I rapidly approach the end of my twenties.
I'll turn 29 in less than a month. Most of you know this; it's not exactly a secret. I am, all at once, older than most members of my MFA class, and less experienced in life than most of them. Most of my classmates are married (or are otherwise headed that way soon enough); several of them have children. Most of them are there because they want to be, or to get a second degree as a backup to their primary life goals (or as a supplement to the jobs they already have, as some of them aren't GTAs and attend school part-time only). Very, very few of them are there because they're out of options and have no other marketable skills. Almost all of them have some sort of game plan they intend to enact once they graduate.
I am out of options. I have no other marketable skills. I have no set-in-stone game plan. There is, in fact, a good chance that I could end up homeless less than a year after graduation. When I realize this, I don't even necessarily realize it in fear -- more like resignation. As if I am saying to myself, Yep, that's definitely a possibility. Can't do much about it either, can you? You lose, buddy. Start selling your stuff now; All you need is a few sets of clothes and some blankets to be able to live out of the Monte Carlo.
Despite this, I have never felt that what I'm doing isn't important. It is. The MFA program is my chance to make something of my life, to create a future career for myself, and to get a higher degree to get me towards that goal. I have never regretted going back to school and never will, regardless of what happens after graduation. In my life I try not to have regrets about anything anymore. 2011 has been a horrible year, a year wrought with monetary troubles, car issues, a breakup, and an overwhelming, crippling sense of despair. Yet I power through it all and keep my head held high, as I have learned not to let these things affect me as much as they used to. A year or two ago, if I had been faced with the same problems, I would have collapsed under the strain long ago -- I would have packed up everything I could, sold the rest, and would have silently moved back home to my parents' place to live out the rest of my years in an even more hopelessly-drifting, useless fashion. That is why I don't go back now. That is why I never will go back. I have drive and determination in my life; I have goals, and none of them involve me letting life figuratively, and literally, pass me by. Whether I fail or succeed at those goals will be by my choice, and by my actions, alone.
To this end, I have been doing research into Ph.D. programs, and have also been researching teaching requirements at small and/or community colleges around the area as a backup. This probably comes as no surprise to you. As much as I'd rather not live in Kansas any longer than I have to (for reasons that should be apparent to you, as it's fucking Kansas) after I graduate, in the short term it may be a necessity; Flat State University may ask or need me to adjunct as well, and there's not really any way for me to monetarily leave the state until I a) get a good job and build up some savings, or b) win the lottery or Publisher's Clearing House prize. As the latter is considerably unlikely, that leaves the former as the most likely scenario. While I've heard about adjuncts getting paid decent money -- much more decent than what I'm getting now -- it's still not a career I could live on much more than I'm living now, much less a career that I could start a family on.
Ah yes, back to that again. As I mentioned before, there's a lot of things I thought I'd be, or be doing, by the end of my twenties. About the only one of them that's come to pass is that I'm still writing. I always wanted to be in a band. I always wanted to be a stand-up comedian (something that my friends frequently tell me I should still do). For the past five or six years, even, I've wanted to have my own podcast and generate a fanbase of loyal supporters.
And finally, I figured by the end of my twenties, I'd be married with children, and that I'd be happy.
That's the one that hurts the most, by the way. In case you couldn't guess.
As you may know, my (biological) parents divorced before I was five. Both of them later remarried. I never liked either of my step-parents, but luckily that wouldn't be a problem for long; my father cut me out of his life completely by the time I was ten (the less said about that, the better), and around the same time my mother divorced my stepfather (and again, the less said about him, the better). My "dad," and I do see him as such, has been with my mother for almost twenty years now, and they've never married. Despite my tumultuous early childhood, as I grew up, my parents raised me to be the upstanding individual I am today; my sense of humor, as well as basic male life knowledge comes mostly from my dad and brothers, and my sense of everything else -- including knowing and admitting my faults, my flair for the dramatic, my potty mouth, and my brutal-in-the-face-of-everything honesty all come from my mother.
Who knows where the hell my writing talent comes from; something had to come from the genes of my biological father, though I hope it's not that. I already carry his gene for horribly-patchy facial hair. Can't that be enough?
Anyway. I'm getting off-track.
My point is that when my parents married, they were barely over twenty. My mother had me when she was 22, and was divorced by 27. Again, I will be 29 this year. Never married, no children (that I know of, anyhow; my college days are hazy as you know). I'm not saying that I would have done the same, especially not in today's world, but I at least thought that as I approached thirty I'd be done with school and at least married, if not with children.
I will be 30 when I graduate from Flat State University, and the only children I have are the cats.
My ruminations on this subject probably awe some readers of this blog, or at least mystify them. After all, it's supposed to be "normal" for guys in their twenties to be running around, dating multiple women, avoiding commitment at all costs. None of that is appealing to me, and hasn't been in many years. When I met the former girlfriend, I was already ready to settle down, and for over six years, I did. And I waited. And when we both realized it wasn't meant to be, we both moved on, amicably. My viewpoints have not changed in that time; I am a sensitive, introspective man capable of great love as well as great patience and understanding. I am getting old, and as we all know, with age comes wisdom. I therefore can and do see through the superficiality of running around and dating multiple women, avoiding commitment, etc. I saw through it ages ago. It's not for me. But then again, if you know me, you already knew that.
This puts me in a weird spot, especially when it comes to my age and life experience levels. I am surrounded by, in a word, children. I don't necessarily say that in a bad way, but it's true. I spend large amounts of time standing in the front of classrooms, teaching English lessons to freshmen who -- for the most part -- have no idea about what real life is like yet. When I'm not in front of a class, I am surrounded by fellow students who, again, are as much as five or six years younger than I am in some cases, and these days, that is a massive generation gap. I have nothing against any of my colleagues as people, obviously -- there are many I like, if not feel an outright kinship with (most of whom read this blog) -- and there are several I dislike or feel indifferent about, just as I am sure there are some who dislike me or otherwise can't stand to be around me for various reasons. I've accepted that, of course. But my point is that most of them are still young and idealistic (or, conversely, young and extremely jaded), and there are many of them I simply cannot relate to on an emotional or idealistic level.
Some would probably say I'm a bit jaded myself. I prefer the phrase "bitter and realistic."
For example, I'm sure I'm going to have several conversations like this next week:
THEM: "I had a blast over break! I went back home to [state and/or city] and I got to hang out with [beloved family member(s)] and we ate [list of Thanksgiving-related food, usually with a reference to pumpkin pie somewhere]. Oh, it was so great, I wish I didn't have to come back to Wichita; I hate this fucking place. What did you do?"
ME: "I, um...wrote about fifty pages' worth of papers and downloaded a fair amount of porn off the internet. Alone."
...because that's what really happened.
That's also probably why I don't have a wife or children, though I'm sure the beat-up car and incredibly small bank account isn't helping my chances any. Now that I think about it, I'm not exactly sure the Honda is even really plausible.
Again, at least I'm honest.
The rest of my break -- all two days of it -- will be spent taking care of a bit more housework and laundry, as well as casually reading the last books I need to read for the semester (so that I can be, y'know, insightful during class discussion). It may be a lonely life with my kitties, but at least it's quiet and uneventful. And I like quiet and uneventful.
To all of my friends and family traveling today and tomorrow, I urge you to be safe in your respective journeys. It would really ruin my day if any of you died.
After Thursday night's 13-hour paper session, I slept Friday afternoon until 2PM. It was hard-earned. I deserved it. Yet it was fitful sleep, and I was unable to get any real, substantial rest.
I had a dream that I was married, happy, and driving a Honda. "A Honda? Wait a minute," I said to myself in my dream, and then I woke up.
One must find the humor in the fact that I didn't question being happy and married, but being affluent enough to drive a Honda was enough to make me question the dream and wake up from it. You'd think it would be the other way around: "Happy? Married? Wait a minute." At least the Honda is somewhat plausible, eventually.
Because, again, I am a horrible person, and don't exactly expect myself to be happy or married anytime soon. But then again, you probably already knew that.
Last night offered me a little scary excitement; at 9:45PM, as I had just stepped out of the shower, I heard someone pounding loudly on my door (which door, I'm not sure, as I was in the bathroom). I threw on my clothes, as if someone is pounding on the door that late at night, in the middle of a rainstorm, no less -- it's probably important.
I was at the door roughly fifteen seconds after the last knock. And nobody was there. I went out onto the balcony. Nope. Nobody anywhere around the house. Not a sound, nothing.
I went back inside and went to the downstairs door and went out. Nobody around anywhere. Car appeared to be fine, as well. Strange. And the driveway's motion light was off -- if someone had come up the driveway, it would've been on, as it stays on for about five minutes at a time. I thought it may have been the neighbors on the other side of the duplex who had knocked to ask something, but if it were them, they would've heard me come to the door even if they'd gone back inside.
Needless to say, I was perplexed and a bit confused. I wondered if I'd just imagined someone banging on the door, at least for a moment. But it was loud. Loud enough for me to hear through the bathroom door with no issue. It wasn't the cats; this was definitely distinct banging on a door, though where (or who) it was coming from was unknown.
Also needless to say, my gun spent the rest of the night with me on my desk. Yes, I do own a gun.
Interestingly enough, this exact same scenario also happened to my friend Justin a few nights ago, and he lives about 40 miles or so south of me. He owns bigger guns than I do, though.
I just found it interesting, that's all. That sort of thing hasn't happened before.
Regardless, things quieted down and I never heard any more knocking, so about two hours later -- as the rain had stopped for the moment -- I put on clothes that I could actually leave the house in, and went to Walmart to do my weekly shopping. At around midnight. I figured that around midnight on Black Friday, it would be "safe" to actually get my normal shopping done, as there was much less of a chance that I'd be run down by ham-fisted midwesterners and an even smaller chance that I'd be stuck waiting an hour in line to check out, my cold things in the cart getting warm.
I was right; midnight on Black Friday at Walmart was much like a normal night at Walmart at midnight -- namely, the place was mostly deserted. A few ladies I ran into who were stocking the shampoo section told me that Black Friday at that particular Walmart hadn't been bad at all; it was Thanksgiving night at 10PM, when the massive sale started for them, that was terrible. I found this amusing, as that was -- earlier in the week, before I had decided to write my Mrs Dalloway paper that day -- when I had originally planned to start my shopping. As I'm incredibly out-of-the-loop, I knew nothing about any special early Black Friday sales.
This is despite the fact that the Newton Kansan, the town newspaper (and the one I worked at as a reporter for over a year) gave everyone in town a free sample issue of the Thanksgiving paper, which contained all of the Black Friday ads. It was in my home for approximately one hour before one of the cats -- probably Pete, as he's an asshole -- vomited violently all over it, and it was ruined. I threw it away.
Anyway, by the time I arrived at Walmart on Friday night, there were some deals left, but not many; all but about fifteen of the $1.96 DVDs were gone, and the ones remaining didn't interest me (or I already owned them). Most of the household appliances were gone as well, but they had one singular remaining Blu-Ray player, from a reputable brand (I believe it was LG or Samsung) for $49. As much as I desperately wanted it, I could not justify spending the money on it. I am on a budget, and I need to stay on said budget. That $49 may end up being the difference of whether or not I can pay my car insurance on time and in full this time next month. So, sadly and regrettably, I did not purchase it.
As an aside, it wasn't until I got home when I realized I had already received my Amazon.com-branded Chase Visa card in the mail, and could have easily purchased it without a second thought had I taken it with me to Walmart. But I'll cover that later.
This was not an ordinary shopping trip for me; sadly, I'd run out of many things around the house in the past several weeks, and I'd put off buying them because they were either too expensive or I needed to save the money I had (because, as you recall, at the time I had no clue what was going on with my rent check). This means that not only was I out of basics like bread and milk, but also out of every conceivable form of meat in the house aside from the ham I baked earlier this week, all of the cats' stuff, every possible vegetable (canned and fresh), any sort of pasta or pasta sauce, coffee, cigarettes, allergy medicine, dishwasher detergent, and was very close to being out of soap and hair conditioner. These items, for the most part, are the mere basics of my survival as a single guy, and I've been making do without many of them -- or using them sparingly as they slowly ran out -- because of the budget I've been on. Therefore, I was determined that as long as I had a little extra money in my bank account this week (for I just got paid) these were things that I needed to get now before I could no longer afford to -- say, around this time next month, when all the bills are due as well as my car insurance.
Again, as an aside: doing rough calculations and shopping only when absolutely necessary, I should be able to squeak by through the end of the year and survive into the first week or two of 2012, after which the other half of my student loan money should come through and I won't have to worry as much about staying on an incredibly tight budget anymore. Hopefully.
So. After midnight at Walmart, I went down the list I'd written and began acquiring items. Most of these items weren't small purchases. I couldn't really help that, to be honest. Halfway through my trip I began rationalizing about what I really needed and what could wait until I had more money. It sucks that I have to do this, but I'm poor. I ended up only getting about 2/3 of the items on my original shopping list, resigning myself to the fact that some of them I would be forced to simply do without for the foreseeable future -- which, if I didn't feel poor and pathetic enough already, that made it worse. My grand total, when all was said and done: $170.14. And that hurt. Really it did. But it also means I won't have to do any grocery shopping for another several weeks, aside from small things like cat food/litter (which they go through quickly) and cigarettes (which I go through even more quickly). But I now have enough food and other household items on which to survive for a long time, which is good in some sense, I suppose.
I did splurge on one item that I probably shouldn't have, but it's the only thing I've done for myself in months -- Walmart had the new Shout Factory-produced 15th Anniversary reissues of Beast Wars on DVD, seasons 2 and 3 (read: the ones I didn't have already), and I bought them. I spent hours last night, until almost 5AM, watching the entirety of season 2, and started season 3 this afternoon. Haven't seen the series in probably ten years or so. It holds up, and holds up well.
Why was I able to do this, you may ask? Well, aside from the whole I just needed to get myself something that would make me a little happier in my life thing, it is because after finishing my papers for the semester, I have little-to-nothing left to write, or do, in regards to my own coursework between now and finals week. This leaves me with a grand sense of release, more than anything else. Of course, I'll still have to study for my Middle Eastern/Asian lit final, and read the last two books for both that class and my Fiction class, but other than that, there's virtually nothing of importance left for me to do this semester aside from grading my students' stuff. This afternoon, I used some of my Papa Points and ordered pizza, and took great pride in doing little but being fat and nerdy for several hours. As you probably know if you've been reading this blog for any stretch of time, free time for me is very rare, and very prized when I have it. This week, as you know, I have earned it.
I've had very little contact with the outside world since break started aside from a few short emails back and forth with Suri and one or two from my parents. Most of my friends are still out of town -- hell, Zedral's been in Hawaii all week -- and have been offline as well. The few I've talked to online are either undergrads with horrific retail jobs (especially horrific this week), or are friends back home who are no longer in school, like Andrea. I think I'm becoming increasingly isolated and hermit-like as a person, which doesn't necessarily bother me as much as it probably should.
My journey through my own mind continues when I have time off, of course; like it or not, I end up thinking about all sorts of things. This you already know. I think about family and friends, about loneliness and my capacity for love. I let potential dating interests wander in and out of my mind, weighing pros and cons against each other. I think about survival, I think about my creative work and where I'm going with it, and I spend way too much time thinking about my financial situation and my very, very unstable future. I think about my grades. I think about the fellowship positions that will open up in the spring. I think about my beautiful Dean electric guitar that I haven't touched in months, sitting across the room from me. But mostly, I think about things that I wanted to be doing, or wanted to be, as I rapidly approach the end of my twenties.
I'll turn 29 in less than a month. Most of you know this; it's not exactly a secret. I am, all at once, older than most members of my MFA class, and less experienced in life than most of them. Most of my classmates are married (or are otherwise headed that way soon enough); several of them have children. Most of them are there because they want to be, or to get a second degree as a backup to their primary life goals (or as a supplement to the jobs they already have, as some of them aren't GTAs and attend school part-time only). Very, very few of them are there because they're out of options and have no other marketable skills. Almost all of them have some sort of game plan they intend to enact once they graduate.
I am out of options. I have no other marketable skills. I have no set-in-stone game plan. There is, in fact, a good chance that I could end up homeless less than a year after graduation. When I realize this, I don't even necessarily realize it in fear -- more like resignation. As if I am saying to myself, Yep, that's definitely a possibility. Can't do much about it either, can you? You lose, buddy. Start selling your stuff now; All you need is a few sets of clothes and some blankets to be able to live out of the Monte Carlo.
Despite this, I have never felt that what I'm doing isn't important. It is. The MFA program is my chance to make something of my life, to create a future career for myself, and to get a higher degree to get me towards that goal. I have never regretted going back to school and never will, regardless of what happens after graduation. In my life I try not to have regrets about anything anymore. 2011 has been a horrible year, a year wrought with monetary troubles, car issues, a breakup, and an overwhelming, crippling sense of despair. Yet I power through it all and keep my head held high, as I have learned not to let these things affect me as much as they used to. A year or two ago, if I had been faced with the same problems, I would have collapsed under the strain long ago -- I would have packed up everything I could, sold the rest, and would have silently moved back home to my parents' place to live out the rest of my years in an even more hopelessly-drifting, useless fashion. That is why I don't go back now. That is why I never will go back. I have drive and determination in my life; I have goals, and none of them involve me letting life figuratively, and literally, pass me by. Whether I fail or succeed at those goals will be by my choice, and by my actions, alone.
To this end, I have been doing research into Ph.D. programs, and have also been researching teaching requirements at small and/or community colleges around the area as a backup. This probably comes as no surprise to you. As much as I'd rather not live in Kansas any longer than I have to (for reasons that should be apparent to you, as it's fucking Kansas) after I graduate, in the short term it may be a necessity; Flat State University may ask or need me to adjunct as well, and there's not really any way for me to monetarily leave the state until I a) get a good job and build up some savings, or b) win the lottery or Publisher's Clearing House prize. As the latter is considerably unlikely, that leaves the former as the most likely scenario. While I've heard about adjuncts getting paid decent money -- much more decent than what I'm getting now -- it's still not a career I could live on much more than I'm living now, much less a career that I could start a family on.
Ah yes, back to that again. As I mentioned before, there's a lot of things I thought I'd be, or be doing, by the end of my twenties. About the only one of them that's come to pass is that I'm still writing. I always wanted to be in a band. I always wanted to be a stand-up comedian (something that my friends frequently tell me I should still do). For the past five or six years, even, I've wanted to have my own podcast and generate a fanbase of loyal supporters.
And finally, I figured by the end of my twenties, I'd be married with children, and that I'd be happy.
That's the one that hurts the most, by the way. In case you couldn't guess.
As you may know, my (biological) parents divorced before I was five. Both of them later remarried. I never liked either of my step-parents, but luckily that wouldn't be a problem for long; my father cut me out of his life completely by the time I was ten (the less said about that, the better), and around the same time my mother divorced my stepfather (and again, the less said about him, the better). My "dad," and I do see him as such, has been with my mother for almost twenty years now, and they've never married. Despite my tumultuous early childhood, as I grew up, my parents raised me to be the upstanding individual I am today; my sense of humor, as well as basic male life knowledge comes mostly from my dad and brothers, and my sense of everything else -- including knowing and admitting my faults, my flair for the dramatic, my potty mouth, and my brutal-in-the-face-of-everything honesty all come from my mother.
Who knows where the hell my writing talent comes from; something had to come from the genes of my biological father, though I hope it's not that. I already carry his gene for horribly-patchy facial hair. Can't that be enough?
Anyway. I'm getting off-track.
My point is that when my parents married, they were barely over twenty. My mother had me when she was 22, and was divorced by 27. Again, I will be 29 this year. Never married, no children (that I know of, anyhow; my college days are hazy as you know). I'm not saying that I would have done the same, especially not in today's world, but I at least thought that as I approached thirty I'd be done with school and at least married, if not with children.
I will be 30 when I graduate from Flat State University, and the only children I have are the cats.
My ruminations on this subject probably awe some readers of this blog, or at least mystify them. After all, it's supposed to be "normal" for guys in their twenties to be running around, dating multiple women, avoiding commitment at all costs. None of that is appealing to me, and hasn't been in many years. When I met the former girlfriend, I was already ready to settle down, and for over six years, I did. And I waited. And when we both realized it wasn't meant to be, we both moved on, amicably. My viewpoints have not changed in that time; I am a sensitive, introspective man capable of great love as well as great patience and understanding. I am getting old, and as we all know, with age comes wisdom. I therefore can and do see through the superficiality of running around and dating multiple women, avoiding commitment, etc. I saw through it ages ago. It's not for me. But then again, if you know me, you already knew that.
This puts me in a weird spot, especially when it comes to my age and life experience levels. I am surrounded by, in a word, children. I don't necessarily say that in a bad way, but it's true. I spend large amounts of time standing in the front of classrooms, teaching English lessons to freshmen who -- for the most part -- have no idea about what real life is like yet. When I'm not in front of a class, I am surrounded by fellow students who, again, are as much as five or six years younger than I am in some cases, and these days, that is a massive generation gap. I have nothing against any of my colleagues as people, obviously -- there are many I like, if not feel an outright kinship with (most of whom read this blog) -- and there are several I dislike or feel indifferent about, just as I am sure there are some who dislike me or otherwise can't stand to be around me for various reasons. I've accepted that, of course. But my point is that most of them are still young and idealistic (or, conversely, young and extremely jaded), and there are many of them I simply cannot relate to on an emotional or idealistic level.
Some would probably say I'm a bit jaded myself. I prefer the phrase "bitter and realistic."
For example, I'm sure I'm going to have several conversations like this next week:
THEM: "I had a blast over break! I went back home to [state and/or city] and I got to hang out with [beloved family member(s)] and we ate [list of Thanksgiving-related food, usually with a reference to pumpkin pie somewhere]. Oh, it was so great, I wish I didn't have to come back to Wichita; I hate this fucking place. What did you do?"
ME: "I, um...wrote about fifty pages' worth of papers and downloaded a fair amount of porn off the internet. Alone."
...because that's what really happened.
That's also probably why I don't have a wife or children, though I'm sure the beat-up car and incredibly small bank account isn't helping my chances any. Now that I think about it, I'm not exactly sure the Honda is even really plausible.
Again, at least I'm honest.
The rest of my break -- all two days of it -- will be spent taking care of a bit more housework and laundry, as well as casually reading the last books I need to read for the semester (so that I can be, y'know, insightful during class discussion). It may be a lonely life with my kitties, but at least it's quiet and uneventful. And I like quiet and uneventful.
To all of my friends and family traveling today and tomorrow, I urge you to be safe in your respective journeys. It would really ruin my day if any of you died.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
The Epic Live-Blogging of My Mrs Dalloway Paper
Fall semester: day sixty-nine
Thanksgiving break: day seven (Thanksgiving Day)
I am here once more to live-blog while writing a paper, in an attempt to keep myself focused on writing it. You may find that, again, counter-intuitive. It is not. It is, in fact, the only thing on the planet that will keep me writing this paper, because I absolutely do not want to do it. This afternoon I am in a mindset as far away from writing an academic paper as anyone possibly can be, and the totally-whiny feeling of can't I just be fucking done with my work already has swept over me, because every day since Sunday/Monday-ish I've had something else to do, another school-related task to complete, another book to read or research to do. And it's totally worn me down. I think Suri put it best a few days ago when she said "For grad students, there is no break." Really, she's right. As I've said many times before, as a grad student there is always something else that could be done during the semester. Always. Remember that, kiddies, if you choose to go on to grad school. The stress and responsibility never stops.
Anyway, let's get on with it.
2:54PM:
I have given my paper the tentative title "The Ongoing Narrative of the Living and the Dead in Mrs Dalloway" because that, at least, is the broad topic that I'd like to cover within it. Sort of. If it morphs into something else as I'm writing, I'll have to go back and change the title. This is, at least, much further along than I was last night, when I had no clue what the topic of the paper was going to be.
2:57PM:
I turn off Twitter and Facebook for the day as they will provide me with nothing but distractions, and start drawing up an outline with body sections for the paper in my notebook.
3:04PM:
Having come up with a good angle for each body section, I've decided it's probably best for me to write my paper as a critical analysis without letting it get bogged down by the research sources I've found, and then go back and insert sections with those sources later when the main text of the paper is finished -- not only will this save me time, but it will also allow me to focus better as I write.
3:11PM:
Still drawing up the outline, hoping I can make things sound more interesting in the paper than they are in the book.
3:25PM:
Yes, still drawing up the outline of the paper. It's sounding good, if I can make it work.
3:34PM:
The outline is finished. I pour myself a fresh cup of coffee and start writing the introduction of the paper. Judging by the outline, it should end up around fifteen pages long, which is comfortably over the minimum requirement of twelve. I'm feeling good -- I now have a game plan, a plan of attack if you will, and should be able to do at least a passable job in getting this paper done.
3:36PM:
I realize that I am almost completely out of cigarettes, and that in about two hours or so I'll have to leave the house to go get more if I want to be able to concentrate enough to finish the paper. I'll have to leave the house. On Thanksgiving Day. I make a mental note to go to the gas station instead of Walmart, as I don't want to be anywhere near Walmart on a holiday.
3:48PM:
Halfway done with the introduction; it's flowing well. I pause to use the bathroom and stretch my legs by pacing the living room for a few minutes, stopping to rub Petey, who stole my chair as soon as I got up.
4:08PM:
3/4 of the way through my introduction, I become a bit frustrated. In trying to come up with a comparison between "living time" and the figurative "dead time" in the novel for my thesis statement, my brain stalls out and gets stuck. Shit.
4:28PM:
Top of page 2, still wrapping up the introduction, as I needed to set the stage for where this paper is going to go. Desperately trying to create a thesis statement that will tie everything together. Yes, kids, even those of us in grad school have problems with that sometimes.
4:30PM:
I close both sets of blinds over my windows, as the setting sun keeps me from actually being able to, y'know, see.
4:38PM:
The narrative of “living time” and “dead time,” therefore, and how the characters deal with their own passage through time, is what draws all aspects of the novel together. The introduction is done; this is my thesis statement. I may go back and change/edit it later, but for now, this is what it is, and I need to be able to move onward with the paper.
4:45PM:
Taking a break, I put on my jacket and shoes to go out for cigarettes before it gets dark.
5:03PM:
I return home from the gas station with a 64oz Pepsi Icee, two packs of cheap cigarettes, and two "spicy chicken fillet" sandwiches (knockoff versions of Chick-Fil-A's sandwiches, and nowhere near as good). This constitutes my Thanksgiving dinner, as sad as that may sound -- but at least it's not something I have to cook myself. I also noticed in my trip there and back that the Monte Carlo's leaking coolant again -- probably because it's insanely warm for Thanksgiving Day (65 outside right now), and it only really leaks when it's warm outside. I make a mental note to check its levels and possibly add more stop-leak to it if necessary before I leave the house next time.
5:07PM:
I eat my "dinner," and realize that I forgot to get some beef jerky like I'd wanted. Shit.
5:09PM:
The chicken's too dry and the pickles suck. Fail, gas station chicken sandwiches. Wow, Happy Thanksgiving to me.
5:12PM:
With a stomach full of Pepsi Icee and subpar chicken, I light up a new cigarette and get back to work on the paper.
5:30PM:
First paragraph of body section one completed, first citation used (the book itself). Moving along at a good clip. The 64oz Pepsi Icee is over half gone.
5:44PM:
I really want the fucking kids in the neighborhood to stop fucking screaming. I don't care if it is a holiday; the tryptophan from the turkey should have kicked in by now. I need to concentrate, so shut the fuck up. It's dark; how can you possibly see to run around the yard and play? Go the fuck back inside and watch football, you little shits. I hope someone's enjoying football, because I'm sure as hell not; I'm writing this fucking paper.
6:14PM:
Halfway through body section one, and I'm on the top of page four. I've used two sources thus far; the book itself, and the chronology of Virginia Woolf's life within the book, written by the editor. I realize that I've been working on the paper for a little more than three hours, with a drive to the gas station in between, and I've gotten to 1/3 of the minimum page count before the first body section is finished. This is a good thing. The kids outside are still running around and screaming.
6:31PM:
3/4 of the way through body section one and I get stuck again. Brain doesn't like me tonight. Wants me to stop working and watch football, listen to a podcast, or play Pokemon. The caffeine and sugar of the Pepsi Icee, now 2/3 empty, isn't helping me like I thought it would. The kids outside are still running around and screaming, despite the fact that it is now completely dark.
6:56PM:
I am on the top of page five, wrapping up body section one. The kids have finally stopped screaming and have gone inside. After I finish with body one, I plan to take a short break.
7:06PM:
Body section one is finished. I've retitled the paper "The Time-Based Narrative of the Living and the Dead in Mrs Dalloway" because it more closely relates to the subject matter I'm writing about. I take a break for a few minutes to wander the house and stretch, and fold a load of laundry I'd left in the dryer.
7:47PM:
After wandering the house for a sufficient period of time, folding the laundry, and starting another load (bedsheets) so that I have a reason to take a break and go back downstairs later, I begin work on body section two.
7:54PM:
I get distracted by Black Friday deals on Amazon for five minutes, not that I have the money to purchase any of them. Walmart, too. They have a nice laptop for $199 that I wish I could afford, badly. Really, really badly.
7:56PM:
I get back to body section 2.
8:08PM:
On the top of page six, coming close to breaching the "halfway" point of the paper as structured in my drawn-out plan in my notebook. The Pepsi Icee has completely melted.
8:19PM:
Halfway down page six, I start stumbling again. My writing isn't as good as it was in the first five pages. I need to start bringing in sources to better back up my points, because writing like this isn't really going to help me.
8:33PM:
Second wind. Bottom of page six, and I'm roughly halfway through my points for body section two. This means that I'm about halfway through the paper. As body section three will be the longest, and then I'll have to go back through the paper to insert research quotes/sources, I will have no problem making this paper reach the minimum page count of twelve, and it may even reach the maximum of twenty when it's all said and done. I'm optimistic.
8:41PM:
The Pepsi Icee, all 64oz of it, is gone.
8:56PM:
Halfway down page seven. Cleaning up the section I just typed. Oh, it's good. It's going to be even better when I splice in some sources and quotes to support it.
9PM:
I take another short break to go downstairs and switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer, and stuff my large comforter into the washer. I realize I've been working on this paper for six hours already, and get a little dejected that I've probably at least got that much more work on it to go. I consider quitting for the night, but decide against it -- I do not want to lose my train of thought, nor do I want to stop until I'm completely finished. I return upstairs, drink more coffee, and continue writing.
9:18PM:
Stuck again. Goddammit. I check my email and see that I have an email from Suri -- who, aside from the occasional email I get from my parents, is the only person who I tend to stay in contact with when I'm not in school. I make the mistake of looking at Facebook for less than two minutes, see that almost everyone I know is having a much better Thanksgiving than I am, and immediately start hating most of my friends. Back to work.
9:26PM:
The phrase "Post-Traumatic Septimus Disorder" crosses my mind. I almost want to name the paper that, and almost type it into my section on Septimus Smith -- by far the most interesting character in Mrs Dalloway. I decide against it, post it on Twitter, and close Twitter again. Back to work.
9:39PM:
I pee a great river of what used to be Pepsi Icee out of my bladder. Into the toilet, of course.
9:45PM:
Top of page 8. I've now been working on this paper for almost seven hours. I'm well past the halfway point, and in another hour of work, I should be able to start body section three. I drink another cup of coffee, now cold, and continue.
10:12PM:
Fuck it, I think. I need stuff to back me up and help form my thoughts. Therefore, first block quote from a research source -- an article our professor gave us in class -- has been inserted into the bottom of page 8. I'm having trouble pulling all of my thoughts together, so I'll let quotes do it for me.
10:27PM:
Finally wrapping up body section two, which concludes with the meaning behind Septimus Smith's suicide and how it relates to the concept of time, living in the present as opposed to the past (or, in Septimus' case, being trapped in the past, unable to escape), and preparing to move on into body section three, which may be the longest of the entire paper. I am currently 1/4 of the way down page nine.
10:31PM:
I am unsure as to how I can enter body section three. I take a break to re-read the entire paper up to this point. In the interim, I fold the freshly-washed sheets, stick the comforter in the dryer, and silently weep about how I would so much rather be playing video games and listening to podcasts than writing this bullshit. Back to work.
10:40PM:
I change the thesis statement slightly. It now reads: The continual narrative of the “living time” of the novel's present and the “dead time” of the past, therefore, and how the characters deal with their own passage through time, is what draws all aspects of the novel together not only in reference to those characters but in the narrative structure of the novel itself.
I think this sounds better, and make a note to possibly expand upon it a bit more before I completely finish the paper.
10:49PM:
Upon reading back through body section two, I realize that I have left out a major component: how Septimus is perceived as Clarissa's mirror in the novel. I begin working on it before I start body section three, as it will not only make the paper more cohesive, but it will make it a page or so longer when all's said and done.
11PM:
For some reason Blogger has "gone down," of sorts, and is unable to autosave my post here every few minutes. As I wait for it to pop back up, I check my email again. Nothing. Back to work.
11:07PM:
Blogger still appears to be down. Meanwhile, I have added about a page to my paper just through additions and edits as I work my way back through what I already have.
11:39PM:
I look up at the clock as I breach page ten, and realize there's a reason my stomach is bothering me -- aside from the lackluster chicken sandwiches, I haven't eaten anything all day. I save my work and take a break to actually eat something substantial.
12:08AM Friday:
I return from my late dinner to realize holy crap, I'm almost done with this paper. I've got one body section and a conclusion to go. Most of that last body section will be critical quotes and interpretations, with my own thoughts spliced in here and there. Blogger is working again. Back to work.
12:37AM:
I breach page 11. I've quoted the book twice, and have quoted a third research source already in the third body section, which is only about 1/3 of the way completed.
1:06AM:
I'm halfway down page 12. At this point I'm just writing and quoting things; I'm not sure how I'll be able to draw it all back to the rest of the paper, but damn is it good. I will not edit any of it out; I will change smaller sections of the paper to be able to keep it.
1:23AM:
I deliver the paper's climactic knockout punch more than halfway down page 12, the one where I think my professor will read it and say "yes, that's exactly what I wanted you kids to get out of the novel! A!" And now begins the conclusion process before I find a few more sources to insert and make my revisions. I have now been working on the paper for almost ten hours.
1:39AM:
I forgo the conclusion for the moment and once more vault back through the paper, trying to find places in which I can insert quotes and/or paraphrases. I hate writing research papers because of this; it is much easier for me to be formalistic, to dissect a novel with just me and the text, than it is for me to look at it for sections where I think "Hm, I bet someone else wrote something interesting about this part of the novel." That's stifling to me.
1:47AM:
More quotes added. Paper has now been expanded to thirteen full pages before the Works Cited page, thus taking it over the minimum requirements. I am close to breaching eleven hours of work on this paper, straight through, with very few short breaks. I am determined to finish it tonight. I drink more coffee and hunker down.
1:58AM:
I posted on Facebook and Twitter that I have been writing this paper for going on twelve hours now, and that's not a lie; look above to see what time I started. I'm getting punch-drunk and groggy. I drink more coffee. Back to work.
2:10AM:
I just sent this email to Suri:
I have spent 12 hours straight writing a paper on Mrs Dalloway. I think my brain is bleeding. I have officially boycotted Thanksgiving. I'm pretty sure my beard is trying to eat my face. I need sleep.
B
2:19AM:
I need to find and use one more source in the paper before I can write my conclusion to sum all of it up and call it finished. I am really, really worn out, and the continued cups of coffee -- as you know, it is my dirty energy -- are making my stomach ache, but I need them to keep focused (at least for the time being).
2:32AM:
I am never finishing this fucking paper.
2:45AM:
I have officially been working on this paper for twelve hours straight. I have drank a pot of coffee, smoked half a pack of cigarettes, and I am still not done yet. I estimate I have at least another two hours' worth of work to do to it, roughly.
3:02AM:
I am on the last line or two of the conclusion, and words have stopped coming to me. Completely. As in, I have no idea how to end the paper. I am at the bottom of page 14. Every ten minutes or so, I begin to nod off a little bit. I must finish.
3:12AM:
I almost fall off my chair because I'm having trouble staying awake. The paper is done, the conclusion is written and I have the minimum of five sources, but I'd like to make a final run-through and edit, especially in the case that I've missed something or can plant another source within it, before I save it and call it completely finished. You have no idea how ready I am to be done with this fucking thing.
3:14AM:
I begin what I hope is my final read-through of the paper.
3:16AM:
Introduction and thesis still sound particularly good.
3:20AM:
First half of body one required a few small edits, but otherwise good.
3:23AM:
The rest of body one sounds fine. It is clear there is a natural progression at play in the paper as I cycle through the aspects of the novel's characters.
3:33AM:
I've read up to page 9 now, out of 14. I think it all sounds great. I've made several minor edits, but the fact that I don't have to change anything structurally thus far, and that I haven't found any grammatical errors or missing words gives me a lot of hope.
3:46AM:
I have officially breached 13 hours straight of working on this paper.
3:50AM:
This paper is good. It may not be the finest paper I've ever written, but it is good.
3:54AM:
Final readthrough is finished. Works Cited page has been attached and properly formatted. The paper itself is completely done, and I've emailed a copy of it to myself in case of catastrophic computer failure. I'm finished. For fuck's sake, I'm finished with my last paper of the semester.
...So there you have it, folks. There's a step-by-step process of how I write a 15-total-page research paper in the span of one day. One. Day. Here's hoping my professor likes it and that I do well on it. I am a paper-writing god.
On that note, I am going the fuck to bed, and hope I don't wake up until mid-afternoon. G'night.
Thanksgiving break: day seven (Thanksgiving Day)
I am here once more to live-blog while writing a paper, in an attempt to keep myself focused on writing it. You may find that, again, counter-intuitive. It is not. It is, in fact, the only thing on the planet that will keep me writing this paper, because I absolutely do not want to do it. This afternoon I am in a mindset as far away from writing an academic paper as anyone possibly can be, and the totally-whiny feeling of can't I just be fucking done with my work already has swept over me, because every day since Sunday/Monday-ish I've had something else to do, another school-related task to complete, another book to read or research to do. And it's totally worn me down. I think Suri put it best a few days ago when she said "For grad students, there is no break." Really, she's right. As I've said many times before, as a grad student there is always something else that could be done during the semester. Always. Remember that, kiddies, if you choose to go on to grad school. The stress and responsibility never stops.
Anyway, let's get on with it.
2:54PM:
I have given my paper the tentative title "The Ongoing Narrative of the Living and the Dead in Mrs Dalloway" because that, at least, is the broad topic that I'd like to cover within it. Sort of. If it morphs into something else as I'm writing, I'll have to go back and change the title. This is, at least, much further along than I was last night, when I had no clue what the topic of the paper was going to be.
2:57PM:
I turn off Twitter and Facebook for the day as they will provide me with nothing but distractions, and start drawing up an outline with body sections for the paper in my notebook.
3:04PM:
Having come up with a good angle for each body section, I've decided it's probably best for me to write my paper as a critical analysis without letting it get bogged down by the research sources I've found, and then go back and insert sections with those sources later when the main text of the paper is finished -- not only will this save me time, but it will also allow me to focus better as I write.
3:11PM:
Still drawing up the outline, hoping I can make things sound more interesting in the paper than they are in the book.
3:25PM:
Yes, still drawing up the outline of the paper. It's sounding good, if I can make it work.
3:34PM:
The outline is finished. I pour myself a fresh cup of coffee and start writing the introduction of the paper. Judging by the outline, it should end up around fifteen pages long, which is comfortably over the minimum requirement of twelve. I'm feeling good -- I now have a game plan, a plan of attack if you will, and should be able to do at least a passable job in getting this paper done.
3:36PM:
I realize that I am almost completely out of cigarettes, and that in about two hours or so I'll have to leave the house to go get more if I want to be able to concentrate enough to finish the paper. I'll have to leave the house. On Thanksgiving Day. I make a mental note to go to the gas station instead of Walmart, as I don't want to be anywhere near Walmart on a holiday.
3:48PM:
Halfway done with the introduction; it's flowing well. I pause to use the bathroom and stretch my legs by pacing the living room for a few minutes, stopping to rub Petey, who stole my chair as soon as I got up.
4:08PM:
3/4 of the way through my introduction, I become a bit frustrated. In trying to come up with a comparison between "living time" and the figurative "dead time" in the novel for my thesis statement, my brain stalls out and gets stuck. Shit.
4:28PM:
Top of page 2, still wrapping up the introduction, as I needed to set the stage for where this paper is going to go. Desperately trying to create a thesis statement that will tie everything together. Yes, kids, even those of us in grad school have problems with that sometimes.
4:30PM:
I close both sets of blinds over my windows, as the setting sun keeps me from actually being able to, y'know, see.
4:38PM:
The narrative of “living time” and “dead time,” therefore, and how the characters deal with their own passage through time, is what draws all aspects of the novel together. The introduction is done; this is my thesis statement. I may go back and change/edit it later, but for now, this is what it is, and I need to be able to move onward with the paper.
4:45PM:
Taking a break, I put on my jacket and shoes to go out for cigarettes before it gets dark.
5:03PM:
I return home from the gas station with a 64oz Pepsi Icee, two packs of cheap cigarettes, and two "spicy chicken fillet" sandwiches (knockoff versions of Chick-Fil-A's sandwiches, and nowhere near as good). This constitutes my Thanksgiving dinner, as sad as that may sound -- but at least it's not something I have to cook myself. I also noticed in my trip there and back that the Monte Carlo's leaking coolant again -- probably because it's insanely warm for Thanksgiving Day (65 outside right now), and it only really leaks when it's warm outside. I make a mental note to check its levels and possibly add more stop-leak to it if necessary before I leave the house next time.
5:07PM:
I eat my "dinner," and realize that I forgot to get some beef jerky like I'd wanted. Shit.
5:09PM:
The chicken's too dry and the pickles suck. Fail, gas station chicken sandwiches. Wow, Happy Thanksgiving to me.
5:12PM:
With a stomach full of Pepsi Icee and subpar chicken, I light up a new cigarette and get back to work on the paper.
5:30PM:
First paragraph of body section one completed, first citation used (the book itself). Moving along at a good clip. The 64oz Pepsi Icee is over half gone.
5:44PM:
I really want the fucking kids in the neighborhood to stop fucking screaming. I don't care if it is a holiday; the tryptophan from the turkey should have kicked in by now. I need to concentrate, so shut the fuck up. It's dark; how can you possibly see to run around the yard and play? Go the fuck back inside and watch football, you little shits. I hope someone's enjoying football, because I'm sure as hell not; I'm writing this fucking paper.
6:14PM:
Halfway through body section one, and I'm on the top of page four. I've used two sources thus far; the book itself, and the chronology of Virginia Woolf's life within the book, written by the editor. I realize that I've been working on the paper for a little more than three hours, with a drive to the gas station in between, and I've gotten to 1/3 of the minimum page count before the first body section is finished. This is a good thing. The kids outside are still running around and screaming.
6:31PM:
3/4 of the way through body section one and I get stuck again. Brain doesn't like me tonight. Wants me to stop working and watch football, listen to a podcast, or play Pokemon. The caffeine and sugar of the Pepsi Icee, now 2/3 empty, isn't helping me like I thought it would. The kids outside are still running around and screaming, despite the fact that it is now completely dark.
6:56PM:
I am on the top of page five, wrapping up body section one. The kids have finally stopped screaming and have gone inside. After I finish with body one, I plan to take a short break.
7:06PM:
Body section one is finished. I've retitled the paper "The Time-Based Narrative of the Living and the Dead in Mrs Dalloway" because it more closely relates to the subject matter I'm writing about. I take a break for a few minutes to wander the house and stretch, and fold a load of laundry I'd left in the dryer.
7:47PM:
After wandering the house for a sufficient period of time, folding the laundry, and starting another load (bedsheets) so that I have a reason to take a break and go back downstairs later, I begin work on body section two.
7:54PM:
I get distracted by Black Friday deals on Amazon for five minutes, not that I have the money to purchase any of them. Walmart, too. They have a nice laptop for $199 that I wish I could afford, badly. Really, really badly.
7:56PM:
I get back to body section 2.
8:08PM:
On the top of page six, coming close to breaching the "halfway" point of the paper as structured in my drawn-out plan in my notebook. The Pepsi Icee has completely melted.
8:19PM:
Halfway down page six, I start stumbling again. My writing isn't as good as it was in the first five pages. I need to start bringing in sources to better back up my points, because writing like this isn't really going to help me.
8:33PM:
Second wind. Bottom of page six, and I'm roughly halfway through my points for body section two. This means that I'm about halfway through the paper. As body section three will be the longest, and then I'll have to go back through the paper to insert research quotes/sources, I will have no problem making this paper reach the minimum page count of twelve, and it may even reach the maximum of twenty when it's all said and done. I'm optimistic.
8:41PM:
The Pepsi Icee, all 64oz of it, is gone.
8:56PM:
Halfway down page seven. Cleaning up the section I just typed. Oh, it's good. It's going to be even better when I splice in some sources and quotes to support it.
9PM:
I take another short break to go downstairs and switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer, and stuff my large comforter into the washer. I realize I've been working on this paper for six hours already, and get a little dejected that I've probably at least got that much more work on it to go. I consider quitting for the night, but decide against it -- I do not want to lose my train of thought, nor do I want to stop until I'm completely finished. I return upstairs, drink more coffee, and continue writing.
9:18PM:
Stuck again. Goddammit. I check my email and see that I have an email from Suri -- who, aside from the occasional email I get from my parents, is the only person who I tend to stay in contact with when I'm not in school. I make the mistake of looking at Facebook for less than two minutes, see that almost everyone I know is having a much better Thanksgiving than I am, and immediately start hating most of my friends. Back to work.
9:26PM:
The phrase "Post-Traumatic Septimus Disorder" crosses my mind. I almost want to name the paper that, and almost type it into my section on Septimus Smith -- by far the most interesting character in Mrs Dalloway. I decide against it, post it on Twitter, and close Twitter again. Back to work.
9:39PM:
I pee a great river of what used to be Pepsi Icee out of my bladder. Into the toilet, of course.
9:45PM:
Top of page 8. I've now been working on this paper for almost seven hours. I'm well past the halfway point, and in another hour of work, I should be able to start body section three. I drink another cup of coffee, now cold, and continue.
10:12PM:
Fuck it, I think. I need stuff to back me up and help form my thoughts. Therefore, first block quote from a research source -- an article our professor gave us in class -- has been inserted into the bottom of page 8. I'm having trouble pulling all of my thoughts together, so I'll let quotes do it for me.
10:27PM:
Finally wrapping up body section two, which concludes with the meaning behind Septimus Smith's suicide and how it relates to the concept of time, living in the present as opposed to the past (or, in Septimus' case, being trapped in the past, unable to escape), and preparing to move on into body section three, which may be the longest of the entire paper. I am currently 1/4 of the way down page nine.
10:31PM:
I am unsure as to how I can enter body section three. I take a break to re-read the entire paper up to this point. In the interim, I fold the freshly-washed sheets, stick the comforter in the dryer, and silently weep about how I would so much rather be playing video games and listening to podcasts than writing this bullshit. Back to work.
10:40PM:
I change the thesis statement slightly. It now reads: The continual narrative of the “living time” of the novel's present and the “dead time” of the past, therefore, and how the characters deal with their own passage through time, is what draws all aspects of the novel together not only in reference to those characters but in the narrative structure of the novel itself.
I think this sounds better, and make a note to possibly expand upon it a bit more before I completely finish the paper.
10:49PM:
Upon reading back through body section two, I realize that I have left out a major component: how Septimus is perceived as Clarissa's mirror in the novel. I begin working on it before I start body section three, as it will not only make the paper more cohesive, but it will make it a page or so longer when all's said and done.
11PM:
For some reason Blogger has "gone down," of sorts, and is unable to autosave my post here every few minutes. As I wait for it to pop back up, I check my email again. Nothing. Back to work.
11:07PM:
Blogger still appears to be down. Meanwhile, I have added about a page to my paper just through additions and edits as I work my way back through what I already have.
11:39PM:
I look up at the clock as I breach page ten, and realize there's a reason my stomach is bothering me -- aside from the lackluster chicken sandwiches, I haven't eaten anything all day. I save my work and take a break to actually eat something substantial.
12:08AM Friday:
I return from my late dinner to realize holy crap, I'm almost done with this paper. I've got one body section and a conclusion to go. Most of that last body section will be critical quotes and interpretations, with my own thoughts spliced in here and there. Blogger is working again. Back to work.
12:37AM:
I breach page 11. I've quoted the book twice, and have quoted a third research source already in the third body section, which is only about 1/3 of the way completed.
1:06AM:
I'm halfway down page 12. At this point I'm just writing and quoting things; I'm not sure how I'll be able to draw it all back to the rest of the paper, but damn is it good. I will not edit any of it out; I will change smaller sections of the paper to be able to keep it.
1:23AM:
I deliver the paper's climactic knockout punch more than halfway down page 12, the one where I think my professor will read it and say "yes, that's exactly what I wanted you kids to get out of the novel! A!" And now begins the conclusion process before I find a few more sources to insert and make my revisions. I have now been working on the paper for almost ten hours.
1:39AM:
I forgo the conclusion for the moment and once more vault back through the paper, trying to find places in which I can insert quotes and/or paraphrases. I hate writing research papers because of this; it is much easier for me to be formalistic, to dissect a novel with just me and the text, than it is for me to look at it for sections where I think "Hm, I bet someone else wrote something interesting about this part of the novel." That's stifling to me.
1:47AM:
More quotes added. Paper has now been expanded to thirteen full pages before the Works Cited page, thus taking it over the minimum requirements. I am close to breaching eleven hours of work on this paper, straight through, with very few short breaks. I am determined to finish it tonight. I drink more coffee and hunker down.
1:58AM:
I posted on Facebook and Twitter that I have been writing this paper for going on twelve hours now, and that's not a lie; look above to see what time I started. I'm getting punch-drunk and groggy. I drink more coffee. Back to work.
2:10AM:
I just sent this email to Suri:
I have spent 12 hours straight writing a paper on Mrs Dalloway. I think my brain is bleeding. I have officially boycotted Thanksgiving. I'm pretty sure my beard is trying to eat my face. I need sleep.
B
2:19AM:
I need to find and use one more source in the paper before I can write my conclusion to sum all of it up and call it finished. I am really, really worn out, and the continued cups of coffee -- as you know, it is my dirty energy -- are making my stomach ache, but I need them to keep focused (at least for the time being).
2:32AM:
I am never finishing this fucking paper.
2:45AM:
I have officially been working on this paper for twelve hours straight. I have drank a pot of coffee, smoked half a pack of cigarettes, and I am still not done yet. I estimate I have at least another two hours' worth of work to do to it, roughly.
3:02AM:
I am on the last line or two of the conclusion, and words have stopped coming to me. Completely. As in, I have no idea how to end the paper. I am at the bottom of page 14. Every ten minutes or so, I begin to nod off a little bit. I must finish.
3:12AM:
I almost fall off my chair because I'm having trouble staying awake. The paper is done, the conclusion is written and I have the minimum of five sources, but I'd like to make a final run-through and edit, especially in the case that I've missed something or can plant another source within it, before I save it and call it completely finished. You have no idea how ready I am to be done with this fucking thing.
3:14AM:
I begin what I hope is my final read-through of the paper.
3:16AM:
Introduction and thesis still sound particularly good.
3:20AM:
First half of body one required a few small edits, but otherwise good.
3:23AM:
The rest of body one sounds fine. It is clear there is a natural progression at play in the paper as I cycle through the aspects of the novel's characters.
3:33AM:
I've read up to page 9 now, out of 14. I think it all sounds great. I've made several minor edits, but the fact that I don't have to change anything structurally thus far, and that I haven't found any grammatical errors or missing words gives me a lot of hope.
3:46AM:
I have officially breached 13 hours straight of working on this paper.
3:50AM:
This paper is good. It may not be the finest paper I've ever written, but it is good.
3:54AM:
Final readthrough is finished. Works Cited page has been attached and properly formatted. The paper itself is completely done, and I've emailed a copy of it to myself in case of catastrophic computer failure. I'm finished. For fuck's sake, I'm finished with my last paper of the semester.
...So there you have it, folks. There's a step-by-step process of how I write a 15-total-page research paper in the span of one day. One. Day. Here's hoping my professor likes it and that I do well on it. I am a paper-writing god.
On that note, I am going the fuck to bed, and hope I don't wake up until mid-afternoon. G'night.
It's All Downhill From Here
Fall semester: day sixty-eight
Thanksgiving break: day six
Today is the 21st birthday of one of my dear friends. I say today because it's already after midnight, and therefore she's technically 21 already. Also, it's Thanksgiving. Happy Thanksgiving. I'll be turning my phone off, as I have a lot of work to still take care of, and the last thing I need is interruption.
Anyway.
"Enjoy your big day now," I told said friend, "because this is the last one that matters. It's all downhill from here, kiddo."
It's sad, but true. I squandered my 21st birthday; of course, it was eight years ago now. I can't even remember what I did, but it certainly wasn't remarkable. That was in December 2003. All I remember of 2003 is that it wasn't exactly the best time for me; I was right in the middle of my hedonistic college days in undergrad at WVU, days that are now a hazy fog. How ironic I can remember things that happened around that time, but can't remember what I actually did on my 21st birthday. Figures.
I did later add, in my conversation with my friend, "Of course, I mean that in the best possible way."
Truthfully, the phrase it's all downhill from here applies to a lot of things going on in my life right now; my finances, Thanksgiving break is now a little more than halfway over, the semester is winding to a close, and winter is starting to set in (though you'd hardly know it some days -- this afternoon it was 63 degrees outside). Slowly but surely everything is wrapping up, being tied into a neat little figurative bow.
This afternoon, I dove headlong into my work, assembling and completing -- in its entirety -- the portfolio I need to turn in for my graduate poetry workshop this semester. It clocks in at eighteen pages total (yes, I did write/revise that much today) and is now ready to be turned in to my professor next week. That is the second of the three major goals I needed to accomplish while I'm on break. The third, which I've already started on, is the long 12-20 page paper for my Grad Studies in Fiction class. As much as I hate Virginia Woolf, I've chosen to write on Mrs Dalloway, as there is a vast amount of critical articles on the web available to choose from for research sources, and while the book is a bit dense, it's not nearly as dense as some of the other tomes we've read in that class. I can easily expound on large parts of it.
However, as I'm not sure exactly what my professor wants out of said paper -- aside from it being a critical research paper with "five sources, a broad vision, a genuine (which, of course, means unsolvable) critical problem exposed to the light by your brilliant analysis" (that's taken directly from the syllabus, by the way), I haven't nailed down a true topic yet. I've done research on "discussion questions" for the novel, as hopefully that will point me in the right direction and help me solidify a topic. Aside from that, however, I'm clueless. I've already started preliminary research and found several critical articles I should be able to use in pretty much any paper on the novel, but otherwise nothing. My brain is fried at this point, folks; I've been working on school-related things since Monday night, and about the last thing I want to do is sit here for another 12-15 hours a day typing up yet another paper on something I could truly care less about. I'm not exactly thrilled with that prospect, needless to say. But, it has to be done. If I don't do it now, I'll keep putting it all off over and over again, and when finals week rolls around, I'll be swamped. I rather like having nothing to do at the end of the semester but grading, and I'd like to keep it that way.
Usually, however, I'm lucky enough to be able to pull some brilliant topic out of my ass, write about it extensively, and turn in an A-graded paper. I'm hoping that will work this time around as well, as this paper is worth 40% of my grade in the class and I'm pretty sure said professor already hates my writing style (but I'll get into that after the semester is over).
Also, like an idiot, I left all of my students' workshop copies for their final paper on my desk at work last week, which means I won't be able to critique any of them until shortly before class on Tuesday morning. I didn't realize this until tonight, when I was looking for them. This isn't really a huge deal, as a fair amount of my students are going to turn in their papers early anyhow, but it's still frustrating. It means I'll have to rush through them on Tuesday morning and attempt to sound intelligent. No matter what I do, there's always something crucial I forget about whenever I have a long break like this. If there's anything I'm thankful for on Thanksgiving, it's that I'm not taking six classes anymore (like I did in undergrad for most of the semesters I was in school), only three. Otherwise there's a lot more that I would forget or be too swamped to take care of.
It is almost 1AM, and I've been debating on going to Walmart all night long. I don't want to, as it's "Thanksgiving Eve," and I can't imagine shopping even this late would be a pleasant experience, but the cats are out of litter and I will soon be out of some of the other household essentials that can't exactly wait two days until all of the Black Friday stuff has passed and people settle back down somewhat. I'm also not sure I'm awake enough to push a cart around the store for an hour, gathering food supplies and other stuff. I haven't even made a list. I'm terribly unorganized.
Besides. While I'm in the groove, I'd like to take the better part of the next 24 hours and just finish everything to do with the Mrs Dalloway paper, even if that means I miss all of the Thanksgiving football games that will be going on. That paper has been weighing heavy on my shoulders for a few weeks now, and after it's done I'll be able to relax and breathe a little more comfortably. Until then, though, I'm totally in work-my-ass-off mode. Getting that paper done means more to me symbolically than it does in the real world.
Okay then, Brandon, you're probably thinking, so why are you blogging instead of working on it?
I don't know; perhaps it's because I need a mental break. I can close my eyes and not have to think about work when I'm blogging. You'd be surprised how many blog posts I write with my head tilted back and eyes closed, almost as if I were in a trance and just letting the words come to me. As I'm an excellent typist, I can do that sort of thing without making any errors, too. I'm also not exactly energetic or focused enough to start a major paper at this time of night, either. I think it's enough for one day that I started doing all sorts of research and completed an eighteen-page poetry portfolio.
I got an email this morning from Papa John's. I apparently am one of their "million pizza giveaway" winners, and have had the appropriate number of "Papa Points" added to my account to get a free pizza from them. You only need 25 to get a free large 3-topping. I now have 54 points total. Technically, I could get two free large 3-toppings at once and have myself a free Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow if I wanted to, but I have no cash whatsoever to give a tip to the delivery person. Instead I think I'll save the points and use them as an "emergency food ration" option, or barring that, a free Christmas dinner next month. Or maybe I'll use them for my birthday. Who knows.
I could also use them if anyone visits me and wants dinner, but so far that doesn't look like it's happening anytime soon. One of my friends was lonely tonight, and I sent her a message telling her that my research was going poorly and if she wanted to come up and visit, she could. I got no response. Oh well. There was a time where stuff like this would've bothered me and crippled my self-esteem and self-worth. Now I'm used to it. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, really.
So, yeah. My Thanksgiving will consist of sleeping until well after noon tomorrow, getting up, researching some more, writing a paper, trying to get through an Italo Calvino novel (which is difficult, let me tell you) and then going to bed once I'm done with everything. How ironic that the one day of my break that is an actual holiday, and is the entire reason for my break in the first place, will be the day I work the hardest on schoolwork. Such is life, I suppose. As much as I'd like to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, or pay close attention to the numerous football games that will be going on, I have responsibilities. Gettin' shit done, one thing at a time.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
Thanksgiving break: day six
Today is the 21st birthday of one of my dear friends. I say today because it's already after midnight, and therefore she's technically 21 already. Also, it's Thanksgiving. Happy Thanksgiving. I'll be turning my phone off, as I have a lot of work to still take care of, and the last thing I need is interruption.
Anyway.
"Enjoy your big day now," I told said friend, "because this is the last one that matters. It's all downhill from here, kiddo."
It's sad, but true. I squandered my 21st birthday; of course, it was eight years ago now. I can't even remember what I did, but it certainly wasn't remarkable. That was in December 2003. All I remember of 2003 is that it wasn't exactly the best time for me; I was right in the middle of my hedonistic college days in undergrad at WVU, days that are now a hazy fog. How ironic I can remember things that happened around that time, but can't remember what I actually did on my 21st birthday. Figures.
I did later add, in my conversation with my friend, "Of course, I mean that in the best possible way."
Truthfully, the phrase it's all downhill from here applies to a lot of things going on in my life right now; my finances, Thanksgiving break is now a little more than halfway over, the semester is winding to a close, and winter is starting to set in (though you'd hardly know it some days -- this afternoon it was 63 degrees outside). Slowly but surely everything is wrapping up, being tied into a neat little figurative bow.
This afternoon, I dove headlong into my work, assembling and completing -- in its entirety -- the portfolio I need to turn in for my graduate poetry workshop this semester. It clocks in at eighteen pages total (yes, I did write/revise that much today) and is now ready to be turned in to my professor next week. That is the second of the three major goals I needed to accomplish while I'm on break. The third, which I've already started on, is the long 12-20 page paper for my Grad Studies in Fiction class. As much as I hate Virginia Woolf, I've chosen to write on Mrs Dalloway, as there is a vast amount of critical articles on the web available to choose from for research sources, and while the book is a bit dense, it's not nearly as dense as some of the other tomes we've read in that class. I can easily expound on large parts of it.
However, as I'm not sure exactly what my professor wants out of said paper -- aside from it being a critical research paper with "five sources, a broad vision, a genuine (which, of course, means unsolvable) critical problem exposed to the light by your brilliant analysis" (that's taken directly from the syllabus, by the way), I haven't nailed down a true topic yet. I've done research on "discussion questions" for the novel, as hopefully that will point me in the right direction and help me solidify a topic. Aside from that, however, I'm clueless. I've already started preliminary research and found several critical articles I should be able to use in pretty much any paper on the novel, but otherwise nothing. My brain is fried at this point, folks; I've been working on school-related things since Monday night, and about the last thing I want to do is sit here for another 12-15 hours a day typing up yet another paper on something I could truly care less about. I'm not exactly thrilled with that prospect, needless to say. But, it has to be done. If I don't do it now, I'll keep putting it all off over and over again, and when finals week rolls around, I'll be swamped. I rather like having nothing to do at the end of the semester but grading, and I'd like to keep it that way.
Usually, however, I'm lucky enough to be able to pull some brilliant topic out of my ass, write about it extensively, and turn in an A-graded paper. I'm hoping that will work this time around as well, as this paper is worth 40% of my grade in the class and I'm pretty sure said professor already hates my writing style (but I'll get into that after the semester is over).
Also, like an idiot, I left all of my students' workshop copies for their final paper on my desk at work last week, which means I won't be able to critique any of them until shortly before class on Tuesday morning. I didn't realize this until tonight, when I was looking for them. This isn't really a huge deal, as a fair amount of my students are going to turn in their papers early anyhow, but it's still frustrating. It means I'll have to rush through them on Tuesday morning and attempt to sound intelligent. No matter what I do, there's always something crucial I forget about whenever I have a long break like this. If there's anything I'm thankful for on Thanksgiving, it's that I'm not taking six classes anymore (like I did in undergrad for most of the semesters I was in school), only three. Otherwise there's a lot more that I would forget or be too swamped to take care of.
It is almost 1AM, and I've been debating on going to Walmart all night long. I don't want to, as it's "Thanksgiving Eve," and I can't imagine shopping even this late would be a pleasant experience, but the cats are out of litter and I will soon be out of some of the other household essentials that can't exactly wait two days until all of the Black Friday stuff has passed and people settle back down somewhat. I'm also not sure I'm awake enough to push a cart around the store for an hour, gathering food supplies and other stuff. I haven't even made a list. I'm terribly unorganized.
Besides. While I'm in the groove, I'd like to take the better part of the next 24 hours and just finish everything to do with the Mrs Dalloway paper, even if that means I miss all of the Thanksgiving football games that will be going on. That paper has been weighing heavy on my shoulders for a few weeks now, and after it's done I'll be able to relax and breathe a little more comfortably. Until then, though, I'm totally in work-my-ass-off mode. Getting that paper done means more to me symbolically than it does in the real world.
Okay then, Brandon, you're probably thinking, so why are you blogging instead of working on it?
I don't know; perhaps it's because I need a mental break. I can close my eyes and not have to think about work when I'm blogging. You'd be surprised how many blog posts I write with my head tilted back and eyes closed, almost as if I were in a trance and just letting the words come to me. As I'm an excellent typist, I can do that sort of thing without making any errors, too. I'm also not exactly energetic or focused enough to start a major paper at this time of night, either. I think it's enough for one day that I started doing all sorts of research and completed an eighteen-page poetry portfolio.
I got an email this morning from Papa John's. I apparently am one of their "million pizza giveaway" winners, and have had the appropriate number of "Papa Points" added to my account to get a free pizza from them. You only need 25 to get a free large 3-topping. I now have 54 points total. Technically, I could get two free large 3-toppings at once and have myself a free Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow if I wanted to, but I have no cash whatsoever to give a tip to the delivery person. Instead I think I'll save the points and use them as an "emergency food ration" option, or barring that, a free Christmas dinner next month. Or maybe I'll use them for my birthday. Who knows.
I could also use them if anyone visits me and wants dinner, but so far that doesn't look like it's happening anytime soon. One of my friends was lonely tonight, and I sent her a message telling her that my research was going poorly and if she wanted to come up and visit, she could. I got no response. Oh well. There was a time where stuff like this would've bothered me and crippled my self-esteem and self-worth. Now I'm used to it. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, really.
So, yeah. My Thanksgiving will consist of sleeping until well after noon tomorrow, getting up, researching some more, writing a paper, trying to get through an Italo Calvino novel (which is difficult, let me tell you) and then going to bed once I'm done with everything. How ironic that the one day of my break that is an actual holiday, and is the entire reason for my break in the first place, will be the day I work the hardest on schoolwork. Such is life, I suppose. As much as I'd like to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, or pay close attention to the numerous football games that will be going on, I have responsibilities. Gettin' shit done, one thing at a time.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Productivity
Fall semester: day sixty-seven
Thanksgiving break: day five
I spent twelve hours yesterday cleaning up, revising, adding to, and finally finishing my long paper for my Middle Eastern/Asian Lit class on Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children, probably the best novel I've read in years. The paper clocked in at eighteen pages and has twelve different sources aside from the book itself. I'm confident I'll do quite well on it.
After finishing it at 3AM, I promptly went downstairs and passed out. I didn't get up until almost 2PM this afternoon. This has been a continuing trend since I've been home during this break. I have six more days of relative freedom left before I must return to Wichita for the last two weeks of actual class, filled with grading and finals prep more than anything else. Then, of course, there's finals, followed by a month of freeeeeeeedom. FREEDOM.
With the Midnight's Children paper done, that knocks off one of the several big projects I needed to take care of this week. The other ones are more time-consuming, though; I must read three different books, write a 12-20 page paper, and assemble a portfolio for my poetry class, as well as look through some student workshop copies of their final essays. Of those, of course, the paper is going to take the most time; I'm going to try to tackle that tomorrow. I'd like to have everything completely finished by Friday, so that the rest of my days off I can enjoy responsibility-free. That is the last of the "real" work I'll be doing this semester for any of the classes I'm taking (aside from the final exam for the Middle Eastern/Asian Lit course), and all that will be left afterwards will be grading -- which is relatively easy compared to all of my other tasks.
Even though I've been off and have had the time to relax somewhat, I've barely done anything but work. I've had the TV on only for football, and even then I didn't pay much attention to it. If it's not been homework, it's been housework -- I've done all the laundry and dishes, and vacuumed the entire top floor of the house. I've baked a ham and made homemade chicken fried rice (of which more is forthcoming). I've paid all the bills for the month, and will be getting an early paycheck this week as the school is closed on Thursday and Friday. I've even spent extra time with the kitties, as they are glad I'm home for such a long stretch of time all at once. They'll get more time with me over the next few days as I spend long stretches reading on the couch and organizing my poetry into the portfolio I need to create.
It's been a relatively quiet week, too. For the most part, I'm really enjoying that. It's such a disconnect from all of the work I've been rushing around doing at school. I appreciate few things more than being able to sleep on my own schedule, work on my own schedule, and if I don't want to work, being able to leisurely read the news online while holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other is pretty good too.
I do have a few errands to run, though; I must get out of the house and get some groceries later this week (probably tomorrow, late-night shopping to avoid Thanksgiving crowds) and I need to drop by the post office once I get paid in order to start mailing out the rest of the packages I have around the house. As my budget is rather tight this year, I'm probably not going to send out the huge volume of Christmas cards that I usually do, though I will (as always) send some to most of my family and close friends -- especially those people who send me things all year round like Wayne & Jane, Andrea, Amber, Zedral, etc. I've got a list. It's a list I need to work on, but it's a list.
It's still been cold here recently; I've kept the thermostat as low as it can comfortably go without me breaking into shivers in the house (it's set around 58 or so right now) so that the furnace doesn't run all the time, and I've been wearing sweats and/or robes around the house a lot just to keep myself toasty. Could be worse. I'm already bracing for December, January, and February, when it will be -10 outside some days (because it always is). That's totally "stick the car in the garage and leave it there" sort of weather that I truly want no part of yet, or ever. My skin's already drying out on my face, head, and hands because of the cold and wind. At least I'll be able to stay at home for a month of that nasty winter and save what little money I'll have left by the end of December. And believe me, it will be very little. My budget isn't destitute, but it will be soon enough. And then summer will be here, and I'll have to teach through that just to be able to survive (as I don't get paid over the summer otherwise, in any way/shape/form).
So many people I know don't understand what it's like to be truly poor, or they think there's some easy way out of one's problems. For example, whenever something goes wrong with my car, and I mention it in casual conversation, people will say "You should sell that car and just get another one that's newer and more reliable." Yeah, well, don't you think I would have done that already if it were possible? While I love my Monte Carlo, it has so many cosmetic problems wrong with it (windows, doors, lights, dents, etc) that it's not even worth the $500 I paid for it. Not to mention the spark plug issues and mileage it has on it, which are decidedly not cosmetic problems. I didn't want a car that old or with that many problems, but it's what I had to get if I wanted to have any sort of transportation whatsoever.
I also hear "you wouldn't be so broke if you lived in Wichita instead of in Newton." Yeah, again, not true. While my rent up here is more than most other grad students pay for their own places, they also have places about 1/4 of the size of mine with no garage, no yard, and only one floor. It's quiet here. I can play my podcasts or music as loud as I want. I have room, and so do the cats. Nobody bothers me here, I don't have to worry about being mugged or stabbed, and I have nowhere to go to spend all of my money (because, as you might assume, there are many, many awesome bars and restaurants in Wichita). And moving anywhere, without anyone's help, is a huge pain in the ass and very, very expensive -- don't let anyone tell you otherwise, because they're lying. Moving trucks are not cheap, finding a new place that would make you pay first-and-last-months' rent (plus a security deposit) is not cheap, and transferring utilities is not cheap. I don't have some sort of magical money fairy that will provide all of this stuff for me, or a magical moving fairy that will help me do any of it. I am poor. I am in a rut because I am poor. I am, at any given time, two paychecks away from being homeless and hungry. That's it, folks. People out here (mostly Republicans, admittedly) seem to think that the chronically poor can just change their lives around at the drop of a hat, and that being poor is one's own fault because they're lazy and/or unmotivated. I'm poor because I am in grad school so that I can actually better my life, not because I'm lazy and unmotivated. I fight for everything I have and work hard to keep it. I don't buy extraneous shit I can't afford; hell, I'm worried about being able to pay my car insurance to keep that landboat of mine legally on the road. My life is mere survival. Plain and simple. And it's expensive just to survive.
Okay. Rant over. Anyway.
While I'm getting stuff done, I'm also in the weird headspace that I don't know what I'll do with myself after the semester is over for that long month we're all off. I've been pushing myself so hard this semester to get everything done -- barely sleeping during the week, reading and writing so many things for my classes, teaching so many different lessons, getting up and driving in to campus before anyone else is there and leaving when most other people have gone...that when it all just stops shortly before Christmas, it will feel like time itself has stopped. Yes, I've been waiting all semester to be done with classes, and I will feel some sort of relief, of course, but after that feeling passes, what's left? I'll return home to Newton and continue being poor and cold. The novelty of time off does tend to wear off after a few days, and after that it's just tedious.
Everyone's telling me I should fly home to visit my parents over the holidays, but that is a horrible, horrible idea when I'll have no spare money and will be at the lowest point in my finances that I've been in several years around that time -- not to mention it's cold, the weather sucks, and any number of things could go absolutely batshit wrong during that time in regards to things like weather and travel, family gatherings, etc. I just want no part of it. None at all. I may fly out to visit next summer, but right now I am not dealing with it. My focus needs to be on survival, getting things done, and preparing for the spring semester of teaching and classes. I, like anyone else, just need some time alone for a while if that's what I choose. I need to decompress. I need to not have to worry about absolutely everything that has consumed my life. This break is not long enough for that, obviously, and I still have too many responsibilities to take care of during it to properly enjoy it. Nobody seems to understand any of that, either.
On that note, I will leave you -- the rest of my night must be spent reading and working on various class-related things if I want to finish everything quickly and still have time to spare to relax before my Thanksgiving break ends.
Thanksgiving break: day five
I spent twelve hours yesterday cleaning up, revising, adding to, and finally finishing my long paper for my Middle Eastern/Asian Lit class on Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children, probably the best novel I've read in years. The paper clocked in at eighteen pages and has twelve different sources aside from the book itself. I'm confident I'll do quite well on it.
After finishing it at 3AM, I promptly went downstairs and passed out. I didn't get up until almost 2PM this afternoon. This has been a continuing trend since I've been home during this break. I have six more days of relative freedom left before I must return to Wichita for the last two weeks of actual class, filled with grading and finals prep more than anything else. Then, of course, there's finals, followed by a month of freeeeeeeedom. FREEDOM.
With the Midnight's Children paper done, that knocks off one of the several big projects I needed to take care of this week. The other ones are more time-consuming, though; I must read three different books, write a 12-20 page paper, and assemble a portfolio for my poetry class, as well as look through some student workshop copies of their final essays. Of those, of course, the paper is going to take the most time; I'm going to try to tackle that tomorrow. I'd like to have everything completely finished by Friday, so that the rest of my days off I can enjoy responsibility-free. That is the last of the "real" work I'll be doing this semester for any of the classes I'm taking (aside from the final exam for the Middle Eastern/Asian Lit course), and all that will be left afterwards will be grading -- which is relatively easy compared to all of my other tasks.
Even though I've been off and have had the time to relax somewhat, I've barely done anything but work. I've had the TV on only for football, and even then I didn't pay much attention to it. If it's not been homework, it's been housework -- I've done all the laundry and dishes, and vacuumed the entire top floor of the house. I've baked a ham and made homemade chicken fried rice (of which more is forthcoming). I've paid all the bills for the month, and will be getting an early paycheck this week as the school is closed on Thursday and Friday. I've even spent extra time with the kitties, as they are glad I'm home for such a long stretch of time all at once. They'll get more time with me over the next few days as I spend long stretches reading on the couch and organizing my poetry into the portfolio I need to create.
It's been a relatively quiet week, too. For the most part, I'm really enjoying that. It's such a disconnect from all of the work I've been rushing around doing at school. I appreciate few things more than being able to sleep on my own schedule, work on my own schedule, and if I don't want to work, being able to leisurely read the news online while holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other is pretty good too.
I do have a few errands to run, though; I must get out of the house and get some groceries later this week (probably tomorrow, late-night shopping to avoid Thanksgiving crowds) and I need to drop by the post office once I get paid in order to start mailing out the rest of the packages I have around the house. As my budget is rather tight this year, I'm probably not going to send out the huge volume of Christmas cards that I usually do, though I will (as always) send some to most of my family and close friends -- especially those people who send me things all year round like Wayne & Jane, Andrea, Amber, Zedral, etc. I've got a list. It's a list I need to work on, but it's a list.
It's still been cold here recently; I've kept the thermostat as low as it can comfortably go without me breaking into shivers in the house (it's set around 58 or so right now) so that the furnace doesn't run all the time, and I've been wearing sweats and/or robes around the house a lot just to keep myself toasty. Could be worse. I'm already bracing for December, January, and February, when it will be -10 outside some days (because it always is). That's totally "stick the car in the garage and leave it there" sort of weather that I truly want no part of yet, or ever. My skin's already drying out on my face, head, and hands because of the cold and wind. At least I'll be able to stay at home for a month of that nasty winter and save what little money I'll have left by the end of December. And believe me, it will be very little. My budget isn't destitute, but it will be soon enough. And then summer will be here, and I'll have to teach through that just to be able to survive (as I don't get paid over the summer otherwise, in any way/shape/form).
So many people I know don't understand what it's like to be truly poor, or they think there's some easy way out of one's problems. For example, whenever something goes wrong with my car, and I mention it in casual conversation, people will say "You should sell that car and just get another one that's newer and more reliable." Yeah, well, don't you think I would have done that already if it were possible? While I love my Monte Carlo, it has so many cosmetic problems wrong with it (windows, doors, lights, dents, etc) that it's not even worth the $500 I paid for it. Not to mention the spark plug issues and mileage it has on it, which are decidedly not cosmetic problems. I didn't want a car that old or with that many problems, but it's what I had to get if I wanted to have any sort of transportation whatsoever.
I also hear "you wouldn't be so broke if you lived in Wichita instead of in Newton." Yeah, again, not true. While my rent up here is more than most other grad students pay for their own places, they also have places about 1/4 of the size of mine with no garage, no yard, and only one floor. It's quiet here. I can play my podcasts or music as loud as I want. I have room, and so do the cats. Nobody bothers me here, I don't have to worry about being mugged or stabbed, and I have nowhere to go to spend all of my money (because, as you might assume, there are many, many awesome bars and restaurants in Wichita). And moving anywhere, without anyone's help, is a huge pain in the ass and very, very expensive -- don't let anyone tell you otherwise, because they're lying. Moving trucks are not cheap, finding a new place that would make you pay first-and-last-months' rent (plus a security deposit) is not cheap, and transferring utilities is not cheap. I don't have some sort of magical money fairy that will provide all of this stuff for me, or a magical moving fairy that will help me do any of it. I am poor. I am in a rut because I am poor. I am, at any given time, two paychecks away from being homeless and hungry. That's it, folks. People out here (mostly Republicans, admittedly) seem to think that the chronically poor can just change their lives around at the drop of a hat, and that being poor is one's own fault because they're lazy and/or unmotivated. I'm poor because I am in grad school so that I can actually better my life, not because I'm lazy and unmotivated. I fight for everything I have and work hard to keep it. I don't buy extraneous shit I can't afford; hell, I'm worried about being able to pay my car insurance to keep that landboat of mine legally on the road. My life is mere survival. Plain and simple. And it's expensive just to survive.
Okay. Rant over. Anyway.
While I'm getting stuff done, I'm also in the weird headspace that I don't know what I'll do with myself after the semester is over for that long month we're all off. I've been pushing myself so hard this semester to get everything done -- barely sleeping during the week, reading and writing so many things for my classes, teaching so many different lessons, getting up and driving in to campus before anyone else is there and leaving when most other people have gone...that when it all just stops shortly before Christmas, it will feel like time itself has stopped. Yes, I've been waiting all semester to be done with classes, and I will feel some sort of relief, of course, but after that feeling passes, what's left? I'll return home to Newton and continue being poor and cold. The novelty of time off does tend to wear off after a few days, and after that it's just tedious.
Everyone's telling me I should fly home to visit my parents over the holidays, but that is a horrible, horrible idea when I'll have no spare money and will be at the lowest point in my finances that I've been in several years around that time -- not to mention it's cold, the weather sucks, and any number of things could go absolutely batshit wrong during that time in regards to things like weather and travel, family gatherings, etc. I just want no part of it. None at all. I may fly out to visit next summer, but right now I am not dealing with it. My focus needs to be on survival, getting things done, and preparing for the spring semester of teaching and classes. I, like anyone else, just need some time alone for a while if that's what I choose. I need to decompress. I need to not have to worry about absolutely everything that has consumed my life. This break is not long enough for that, obviously, and I still have too many responsibilities to take care of during it to properly enjoy it. Nobody seems to understand any of that, either.
On that note, I will leave you -- the rest of my night must be spent reading and working on various class-related things if I want to finish everything quickly and still have time to spare to relax before my Thanksgiving break ends.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
And So It Begins...
Thanksgiving break, for me, at least, has begun.
To celebrate, I have gone to Walmart and purchased a ham. Yes, a ham. Yes, of course I realize that Thanksgiving is a turkey holiday. I don't care. I wanted ham.
I have never baked a ham before. Ever. When it came to the big cooking around the house for the vast majority of my entire life, it was done by one of two women -- either my mother, as I was growing up, or from 2006-2011, the former girlfriend.
Neither of these women do I live with anymore (obviously). So, for the baking of the ham I am on my own. Luckily, I picked a ham with an instruction label on it. Properly preparing, carving, and eating it will be my biggest non-school-related project of this next week or so. I see it as a metaphorical, masculine challenge of sorts -- if I can cook such a large hunk of meat, cut it up with a huge knife and two-pronged fork, and then growl as I eat it, I'll feel like a Viking. Bonus points if I break out the meat cleaver while doing so.
So, my break has begun. It will be eleven days long, and during it I will attempt (and hopefully succeed in) getting almost everything done for my classes this semester. Frankly, there's a huge to-do list to take care of, full of everything from reading three different books to writing papers to creating a poetry portfolio. More than anything else, though, Thanksgiving break is a reminder that the semester will soon be coming to an end, and that I'm that much closer to a (cold and poor) month of freedom -- during which I will be working on various personal projects of my own (on my own time), catching up on sleep and relaxation, and getting some much-needed quality time with my kitties.
Most of my friends and acquaintances within the department are leaving town for Thanksgiving or have already left -- some as early as yesterday morning -- to various locations around the country. Me? I slept until almost 1PM today and have spent the day in my bathrobe, doing laundry. Oh, I also ate lunch and drank some coffee, too. I'm actually glad to some extent that I don't have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving, and that I have too much stuff to do to really consider going anywhere anyhow. Last year I stayed home as well when the former girlfriend went to visit her parents for the week. My heart's just not in making trips to visit family for the holidays anymore; I don't particularly like to travel, I don't like sleeping in any bed other than my own, my car may commit ritual seppuku were I to drive it more than 150 miles in a day, I don't like being away from the cats for prolonged stretches of time, and I don't like not having the ability to sit in my room, drink coffee, smoke and be on my computer. I'm perfectly comfortable most of the time in my hermit's rut of "don't inconvenience me, and I won't inconvenience you."
Overall, now that I've been able to begin decompressing a little bit, my life is okay. For the most part. This is important because so many people I know are going through all sorts of bad shit right now. These things simply aren't going on in my life. So, right now, my life is okay. Simple logic, yes, but still. It's not good, it's not bad -- it's simply okay.
Because of this, it feels weird to say I'm a little lonely and depressed. This is, of course, why I keep busy most all the time, even when I'm at home on the weekends -- if I don't, not only will my work not get done, but I'll have time to think, time to ruminate...and that's a bad thing. Thinking about anything but what needs to be done or otherwise taken care of generally leads to problems and/or trouble for me and my mental state. This is why, in my downtime, I play my DS, listen to podcasts, clean the house/cook/do laundry, or write here. I also have whatever sporting event is on television at the time to distract me, as well as the cats.
...especially cats like Sadie, pictured above, who decided to lay on my lap/arm this afternoon shortly after I started writing his post, prompting this photo.
Yes, if you look closely, you can see the beginnings of gray in my beard. That's what happens when you get old, folks. Time to order up the Just for Men, I suppose.
I mentioned the ham earlier; I have since put it in the oven according to the directions on the label. It should be done in about two hours or so.
[EDIT] I did bake and carve the ham, and it was awesome.
The rent check has now cleared my bank account; it took the better part of three days to do so, but my balance is now accurate. My officemate told me the only thing he uses checks for anymore is rent. I still use mine for rent and all of my bills. I don't trust those online automatic-bill-pay systems, as I've already had enough problems with money over the years. I'd rather keep track of absolutely everything by hand. I'll actually be paid three more times before Christmas, and with my expenses running relatively light for the rest of the year, I should be just fine for my car insurance payment at the end of December. If nothing else, the paycheck I receive shortly before Christmas will completely cover it.
Taking a cue from my friend Jay, I applied for and was approved for an Amazon-affiliated Chase Visa card. It has a $400 limit. Once they actually send it to me in the mail, this means that I may be able to use it to put new tires on my car and slowly pay them off, depending on how expensive said tires may be. I say may because I'm pretty sure tires for my car will be more than $400. The Monte Carlo has huge wheels and a wide wheelbase, so I don't know how much they'll be, even if I go to Walmart for them (which I probably will, really). Depending on wear/weather, I'll have to do that soon. I drive the car too much to put it off. Even if I have to get the cheapest tires that fit my car, they'll be better than the old, worn ones on there now.
The car seems fine, by the way. I'm keeping an eye on the weather; if it's going to drop down really cold at night again any time over the course of these next ten days, I'm going to stick it in the garage and leave it there until I have to go back to school. I don't foresee myself needing to drive anywhere but to the post office and/or Walmart until classes resume. I say post office because I'm going to try to get some of those packages I've been hoarding mailed out sometime while I'm off, since I have a bit of time and money to do it.
As for the oil change I was expecting to need around this time? I still have about 800 miles to spare before it's necessary, according to my odometer and the sticker on the inside of my windshield. I have also, as you know, put two quarts of new oil in it myself over the course of the past three months of driving 150 miles a week or more, so I'm not exactly sure how necessary it will be to do it "on time" now. I still will, but it's going to be a ways off yet. I can say with certainty that I won't drive 800 miles between now and the beginning of spring semester unless something catastrophic happens. The mere thought of the cost of 800 miles' worth of gas for that car makes me twitch, though. I've spent more money on gas for that car since June (when I bought it) than I paid for it.
And I still haven't gotten the suction-cup handle to put the window up/down in the winter...though I have added it to my wish list on Amazon.
Since I've been home, the cats have barely left my side. They seem thrilled that I'm here and am paying attention to them much more than usual, instead of my usual routine of sleep/get up/go to school/come home/repeat. This is odd because I'd have these days off anyway; yes, I'm off already, but my actual extra days of vacation don't start until Tuesday (because, y'know, I'm always home on the weekends). It's almost as if they know I'm not going anywhere for a while. I told Pete (my big boy cat) last night that I really wish all of them spoke and/or completely understood English, as it would really eliminate a large chunk of confusion for them and/or loneliness in my solitary life up here in Newton.
Anyway.
The presentation Suri and I gave on Thursday night in our Middle Eastern/Asian Lit class went well, I think -- even if my laptop played the part of a POS and refused to work with the projector system correctly (we ended up using our professor's laptop, for which I was infinitely grateful). I was really tired and rushed through my section a bit more than I would have liked, but I was worried that Suri wouldn't have the time to cover her section completely. She did, though, and well; aside from a few small snafus with both the powerpoint file and the both of us, we carried the discussion well. The worst time to give any presentation whatsoever in any class, especially a long powerpoint presentation, is the last night of class before Thanksgiving week at 8:30PM or later. By that time we, as well as most of the class, are loopy and tired and just wanting to go home for the weekend. I'm surprised nobody fell asleep.
This weekend will be the first true weekend I've had to myself since the very beginning of the semester. I'm trying my hardest to do almost nothing related to school so that I can get rest and relaxation. I'll get back to actual work on Monday or so, and begin writing my papers/taking care of everything I need to get done over the week off, but as I mentioned before, this weekend is really just for me more than anything else right now. It's a few days I need to reboot my system before getting back to my writing, swinging and fighting to get everything done. While I have a ton of stuff to do, the vast majority of it will only take a few days if I bust my ass doing it. If I do, it'll free up even more free time for me, leading all the way into the winter break.
One of my old friends (a former editor for a website I used to write for, actually) is making a road trip west over the coming week. I told her if she needed a free place to stay for a night or so to avoid paying for a hotel room, I have a spare bed. Well, I have a bed period. Don't forget that I also have the air mattress in the spare room, too. There's nothing sexual in this offer of a free place to sleep, obviously, despite the fact that she's a hot, buxom blonde. It would just be nice to have someone around for a day or so. Besides, I may be creepy at times, but I'm not that creepy. Any of my friends, male or female, are welcome to visit and always have been. Especially if they're traveling and I can help them out. It's just the right thing to do. No clue whether she'll get close to my area in her travels, but I thought I'd offer, at least.
If nothing else, I've got ham to feed her if she's hungry. That's a plus.
Since most everyone who could afford to do so (or afford to cancel next week's classes they're teaching) are out of town now for the holiday, the 'net has been rather quiet and I haven't had anyone to talk to that much. I did, however, have a long, fairly normal conversation with the former girlfriend last night (yes, I know, it surprised me as well when she messaged me). Other than that and a few random, short conversations with a few other friends, there's been relative radio silence.
If I had more money, I'd get out of the house and wander about the state tomorrow; I haven't been to Hutchinson in ages; it's been almost a year since I was out there to the mall or to Target/Kmart. I'd like to take a day over the Christmas break to do that at some point, depending on what time I have, the weather, and whatever money I have to spare. It's been so long since I actually got out of this house to do something other than go shopping for simple necessities/groceries or school. Despite my cravings for some sort of fast food, I haven't even had a burger or fries that I haven't made at home since before the semester started. If nothing else, that should tell you how much I watch my budget.
So, on that note, I'm off to take care of a few more things around the house. I'll update periodically over the break, of course.
To celebrate, I have gone to Walmart and purchased a ham. Yes, a ham. Yes, of course I realize that Thanksgiving is a turkey holiday. I don't care. I wanted ham.
I have never baked a ham before. Ever. When it came to the big cooking around the house for the vast majority of my entire life, it was done by one of two women -- either my mother, as I was growing up, or from 2006-2011, the former girlfriend.
Neither of these women do I live with anymore (obviously). So, for the baking of the ham I am on my own. Luckily, I picked a ham with an instruction label on it. Properly preparing, carving, and eating it will be my biggest non-school-related project of this next week or so. I see it as a metaphorical, masculine challenge of sorts -- if I can cook such a large hunk of meat, cut it up with a huge knife and two-pronged fork, and then growl as I eat it, I'll feel like a Viking. Bonus points if I break out the meat cleaver while doing so.
So, my break has begun. It will be eleven days long, and during it I will attempt (and hopefully succeed in) getting almost everything done for my classes this semester. Frankly, there's a huge to-do list to take care of, full of everything from reading three different books to writing papers to creating a poetry portfolio. More than anything else, though, Thanksgiving break is a reminder that the semester will soon be coming to an end, and that I'm that much closer to a (cold and poor) month of freedom -- during which I will be working on various personal projects of my own (on my own time), catching up on sleep and relaxation, and getting some much-needed quality time with my kitties.
Most of my friends and acquaintances within the department are leaving town for Thanksgiving or have already left -- some as early as yesterday morning -- to various locations around the country. Me? I slept until almost 1PM today and have spent the day in my bathrobe, doing laundry. Oh, I also ate lunch and drank some coffee, too. I'm actually glad to some extent that I don't have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving, and that I have too much stuff to do to really consider going anywhere anyhow. Last year I stayed home as well when the former girlfriend went to visit her parents for the week. My heart's just not in making trips to visit family for the holidays anymore; I don't particularly like to travel, I don't like sleeping in any bed other than my own, my car may commit ritual seppuku were I to drive it more than 150 miles in a day, I don't like being away from the cats for prolonged stretches of time, and I don't like not having the ability to sit in my room, drink coffee, smoke and be on my computer. I'm perfectly comfortable most of the time in my hermit's rut of "don't inconvenience me, and I won't inconvenience you."
Overall, now that I've been able to begin decompressing a little bit, my life is okay. For the most part. This is important because so many people I know are going through all sorts of bad shit right now. These things simply aren't going on in my life. So, right now, my life is okay. Simple logic, yes, but still. It's not good, it's not bad -- it's simply okay.
Because of this, it feels weird to say I'm a little lonely and depressed. This is, of course, why I keep busy most all the time, even when I'm at home on the weekends -- if I don't, not only will my work not get done, but I'll have time to think, time to ruminate...and that's a bad thing. Thinking about anything but what needs to be done or otherwise taken care of generally leads to problems and/or trouble for me and my mental state. This is why, in my downtime, I play my DS, listen to podcasts, clean the house/cook/do laundry, or write here. I also have whatever sporting event is on television at the time to distract me, as well as the cats.
...especially cats like Sadie, pictured above, who decided to lay on my lap/arm this afternoon shortly after I started writing his post, prompting this photo.
Yes, if you look closely, you can see the beginnings of gray in my beard. That's what happens when you get old, folks. Time to order up the Just for Men, I suppose.
I mentioned the ham earlier; I have since put it in the oven according to the directions on the label. It should be done in about two hours or so.
[EDIT] I did bake and carve the ham, and it was awesome.
The rent check has now cleared my bank account; it took the better part of three days to do so, but my balance is now accurate. My officemate told me the only thing he uses checks for anymore is rent. I still use mine for rent and all of my bills. I don't trust those online automatic-bill-pay systems, as I've already had enough problems with money over the years. I'd rather keep track of absolutely everything by hand. I'll actually be paid three more times before Christmas, and with my expenses running relatively light for the rest of the year, I should be just fine for my car insurance payment at the end of December. If nothing else, the paycheck I receive shortly before Christmas will completely cover it.
Taking a cue from my friend Jay, I applied for and was approved for an Amazon-affiliated Chase Visa card. It has a $400 limit. Once they actually send it to me in the mail, this means that I may be able to use it to put new tires on my car and slowly pay them off, depending on how expensive said tires may be. I say may because I'm pretty sure tires for my car will be more than $400. The Monte Carlo has huge wheels and a wide wheelbase, so I don't know how much they'll be, even if I go to Walmart for them (which I probably will, really). Depending on wear/weather, I'll have to do that soon. I drive the car too much to put it off. Even if I have to get the cheapest tires that fit my car, they'll be better than the old, worn ones on there now.
The car seems fine, by the way. I'm keeping an eye on the weather; if it's going to drop down really cold at night again any time over the course of these next ten days, I'm going to stick it in the garage and leave it there until I have to go back to school. I don't foresee myself needing to drive anywhere but to the post office and/or Walmart until classes resume. I say post office because I'm going to try to get some of those packages I've been hoarding mailed out sometime while I'm off, since I have a bit of time and money to do it.
As for the oil change I was expecting to need around this time? I still have about 800 miles to spare before it's necessary, according to my odometer and the sticker on the inside of my windshield. I have also, as you know, put two quarts of new oil in it myself over the course of the past three months of driving 150 miles a week or more, so I'm not exactly sure how necessary it will be to do it "on time" now. I still will, but it's going to be a ways off yet. I can say with certainty that I won't drive 800 miles between now and the beginning of spring semester unless something catastrophic happens. The mere thought of the cost of 800 miles' worth of gas for that car makes me twitch, though. I've spent more money on gas for that car since June (when I bought it) than I paid for it.
And I still haven't gotten the suction-cup handle to put the window up/down in the winter...though I have added it to my wish list on Amazon.
Since I've been home, the cats have barely left my side. They seem thrilled that I'm here and am paying attention to them much more than usual, instead of my usual routine of sleep/get up/go to school/come home/repeat. This is odd because I'd have these days off anyway; yes, I'm off already, but my actual extra days of vacation don't start until Tuesday (because, y'know, I'm always home on the weekends). It's almost as if they know I'm not going anywhere for a while. I told Pete (my big boy cat) last night that I really wish all of them spoke and/or completely understood English, as it would really eliminate a large chunk of confusion for them and/or loneliness in my solitary life up here in Newton.
Anyway.
The presentation Suri and I gave on Thursday night in our Middle Eastern/Asian Lit class went well, I think -- even if my laptop played the part of a POS and refused to work with the projector system correctly (we ended up using our professor's laptop, for which I was infinitely grateful). I was really tired and rushed through my section a bit more than I would have liked, but I was worried that Suri wouldn't have the time to cover her section completely. She did, though, and well; aside from a few small snafus with both the powerpoint file and the both of us, we carried the discussion well. The worst time to give any presentation whatsoever in any class, especially a long powerpoint presentation, is the last night of class before Thanksgiving week at 8:30PM or later. By that time we, as well as most of the class, are loopy and tired and just wanting to go home for the weekend. I'm surprised nobody fell asleep.
This weekend will be the first true weekend I've had to myself since the very beginning of the semester. I'm trying my hardest to do almost nothing related to school so that I can get rest and relaxation. I'll get back to actual work on Monday or so, and begin writing my papers/taking care of everything I need to get done over the week off, but as I mentioned before, this weekend is really just for me more than anything else right now. It's a few days I need to reboot my system before getting back to my writing, swinging and fighting to get everything done. While I have a ton of stuff to do, the vast majority of it will only take a few days if I bust my ass doing it. If I do, it'll free up even more free time for me, leading all the way into the winter break.
One of my old friends (a former editor for a website I used to write for, actually) is making a road trip west over the coming week. I told her if she needed a free place to stay for a night or so to avoid paying for a hotel room, I have a spare bed. Well, I have a bed period. Don't forget that I also have the air mattress in the spare room, too. There's nothing sexual in this offer of a free place to sleep, obviously, despite the fact that she's a hot, buxom blonde. It would just be nice to have someone around for a day or so. Besides, I may be creepy at times, but I'm not that creepy. Any of my friends, male or female, are welcome to visit and always have been. Especially if they're traveling and I can help them out. It's just the right thing to do. No clue whether she'll get close to my area in her travels, but I thought I'd offer, at least.
If nothing else, I've got ham to feed her if she's hungry. That's a plus.
Since most everyone who could afford to do so (or afford to cancel next week's classes they're teaching) are out of town now for the holiday, the 'net has been rather quiet and I haven't had anyone to talk to that much. I did, however, have a long, fairly normal conversation with the former girlfriend last night (yes, I know, it surprised me as well when she messaged me). Other than that and a few random, short conversations with a few other friends, there's been relative radio silence.
If I had more money, I'd get out of the house and wander about the state tomorrow; I haven't been to Hutchinson in ages; it's been almost a year since I was out there to the mall or to Target/Kmart. I'd like to take a day over the Christmas break to do that at some point, depending on what time I have, the weather, and whatever money I have to spare. It's been so long since I actually got out of this house to do something other than go shopping for simple necessities/groceries or school. Despite my cravings for some sort of fast food, I haven't even had a burger or fries that I haven't made at home since before the semester started. If nothing else, that should tell you how much I watch my budget.
So, on that note, I'm off to take care of a few more things around the house. I'll update periodically over the break, of course.
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