I'm aware

that in my poopedness here at the office today my real life is blending into the blog a bit overmuch. It's rather a meta-y synecdoche-y Charlie-Kaufman-y Being-John-Malkovich-y kind of fatigue-y in-the-moment blogging and pondering and thinking/writing aloud kind of attempting-to-figure-stuff-out Real Life play by play that will surely end in my being swallowed up in the quandary itself.

Or maybe you will.

I'm not supposed to do whiny, journally posts

but I'm pooped and mad at myself. Besides that tho, it's 5:48am and I'm leaving for school in a minute. When exactly will I have a break this summer? Hmmm. I know I should just focus on the fact that I did get to spend 6 weeks in Paris for crying out loud and just shut the hell up. That perspective is all well and good for my spiritual happiness and yadda yadda yadda, but my actual brain and body are getting really tired and really do need a solid block of nothing-to-do. Oh sure, most of that fatigue is self-inflicted due to the recent extreme upswing in procrastination (which was under control for about two weeks and then the briefly newfound work ethic went to shit), but poopedness that is one's own damned fault is still poopedness and still necessitates a hefty recovering-from.

If I make it to 1h30 today without conking out or having a crise (a) it will be a miracle, and (b) I really will be caught up and can take a few days... A few days in which to reflect, for example, on how the hell to change my wrongheadedness where work, taking care of myself... life, quoi, is concerned.

shrug and a headshake

I'm spiteful and resentful and grudgy.
Less than I used to be.
Hopefully more than I will be in years to come.
My karma is probably already completely screwed tho.
Is it like alcoholism, where admitting it is the first step to freedom?
Or is admitting it just pointless (or worse, disingenuous) if you are not actively trying to counter the tendency?
Old friends, who proved not to be really, writing me emails out of the blue for example.
(Yay Google!)
Who does it hurt to delete their messages unanswered?
They obviously survived all these years without contact with me.
And yet I feel guilty.
But mostly relieved.
Sometimes it's hard to see the lines between being true to yourself and being a good person.
Just like the ones between hypersensitivity and an overly reactive guilt mechanism.
So I deleted and if there is a third I will delete it as well.
(Oddly and suddenly tenacious old friends, I should have said.)
Prior pain and disappointment demand it.
See above, screwed karma.

red wine riff - as a particularly journal-y post it will only be the slightest bit interesting, and that only if you've had as much wine as I

cause what's better than stream of consciousness when slightly or more than slightly buzzed? not much... school schedule has taken a turn - I kind of freaked two nights before school started to see the my two 104's had 3 students in them (total) - emailed the powers that be only to find out that they were already on it but for whatever reason no one had contacted me about the issue - I had visions of having to get a part time job or something if those sections were dropped... but no, long story short I am now teaching all 2^nd year which means class days only MTWTH!!!!!! crazy! with Paris approaching I'll be at school most of the time on Fridays anyway or working at home but still just the fact that I have a flex-y day... holy shit that feels good even just to think about. the crazy 1^st years are not only 3 days/week but then there's a lab too so on one day you have to meet with each section twice - besides the fact difference between teaching 5 days/wk vs. 4 :) ... watching "A Dance to the Music of Time" miniseries with James Purefoy and Many Others based on the Anthony Powell novels which now I'm intrigued to read. Besides JP there is Simon Russell Beale - hugely underrated actor (on this side of the pond at least) from the 1995 "Persuasion" which stupid imdb has listed as a TV movie which it most certainly was not but oh well... also Paul Rhys who recently has caught my attention more than before - always seemed to be rather forgettable Brit aristocrats until I got "The Cazalets" from the library - he was one of the best parts even tho he's only there about half the time - besides him and a couple of other people (like Stephen Dillane - who I think for the millionth time should probably marry me one of these days if he knows what's good for him) it was pretty disappointing - story-wise anyway... anyway Paul Rhys in "Dance" is a vision -- totally transformed and original and intriguing -weird for such a sappy character but he makes it so engaging but poignantly heartbreaking too - kind of channeling Anthony Andrews' Sebastian Flyte... oh whatever I'm allowed to namedrop Brit actors when I'm toasted - watch some frigging Masterpiece Theater once in a while why don't you... Both kits are here beside me on the couch. it has turned quite chilly so they are suddenly back in cuddlebug mode. Sammers was even ensconced between my legs this morning when I woke up - the traditional spot for his sister most of the time. Here he mostly sleeps on the couch instead of with Lucy and me unless it's really cold. Kinda sad that they both don't sleep with me as a matter of course anymore. I think it has more to do with this house having different draft patterns and lighting than anything about me so I'm not taking it personally :) ...meanwhile...Michael Williams is another really cool thing about this series. Judi Dench's late husband who most of us have only been able to see in "A Fine Romance" but who is so endearing and warm in all the stuff I've seen him in and always makes me think of Vince since MW seems like he resembles what I think Vince will look like when he's old... my legs are tired; I'm being very good about the exercise portion of my new year's resolutions and tonight I did Big Yoga. Tomorrow I will probably ride but it is supposed to be chilly so I might opt for treadmill at Fike instead. Saturday is a pretty big hike if I get enough work done tomorrow at school (see above somewhere about still doing work on Fridays even tho no class to teach :) ... Just remembered I need to invoice Michelin - my most recent student (who is a smoker so made for interesting tutor sessions as he would lean in and I slightly outward keeping my face angled away to avoid breathing scary cig breath) is leaving for France Saturday (it will be an ongoing gig - he'll be back in the US for a few weeks in Feb. and then France again for a month or so, etc. all spring - whenever he's here I'm to work with him to bolster his French whenever possible) anyway only four hours this month but every little bit helps of course esp. as car scares continue... last night thank goodness the huge scary noise was only a branch stuck up between the muffler and Hal's belly. I was on my way to El Charro for margarita and chow with Carrie - we had a good little while venting together, not least because I was so relieved that the branch wasn't some huge part of the car dragging beneath... does Miranda Richardson rock or what? this is getting better than it was the first couple of discs. reminds me a bit of "Fortunes of War" which is wondrous... shades of Gainesville days and only having PBS on the TV and doing possibly the worst waitressing job of my entire life: Ryan's Steakhouse. breakup from hell and potentially total shit time but for some reason not quite as devastating in retrospect as one might think. at least I found Margaret Atwood during my time there (OK yes thanks to Bec) plus the Purple Porpoise was close by for oysters & beer and "Empire of the Sun" came out that year... what more could one need? ... the first stint at Aub*rn was right after that, arguably the turn of events in my life that has the most to do with where I am Right Now, for mostly better... bye