Theme Week One: Whatever Happened to Thursday, Anyway?
Well, we don't know what happened to Thursday. Ever have days like that? Ones that just disappear into somewhere else? Sometimes it's Saturday or Sunday before I realize I've lost Thursday. I'm taking 5 courses and a chemistry lab this semester. It isn't too much. Nothing thrills me more and I feel like I can stay caught up. But none of us, me, Keith, Aska or Hagen are used to this new routine yet. Especially me. Last night I came home from class and Hagen was still up (he's the two year old) So I sat down in the recliner with him and when I woke it was 5:30am...time to go get the twins off to school. Thursday disappeared in a flurry of activity and then a deep descent into nothing. Lots of thought though.
I can't believe that this is me. That was me driving home last night, my head full of chemistry. I'm taking ethics. Algebra and these two wirting courses. Yep. That's right. This is MY life. I'm not reading about it, I'm livin it. That's a huge deal for me. I'm going to make. I'm not going to stop this time. My dreams are jealous of my life. I don't know if I said that first. I just woke up one morning and there it was laying right on the tip of my tongue so I spoke it. And truer words could not be applied. Futhermore...I ain't skeert. I am, however going to have to insist that everyone who knows me call me Doctor for the first year after I get my doctorate. Even my kids. I think that's only fair.
Today is quiet. No class tonight. Hagen is sleeping soundly and I actually get to listen to tunes for a while. Music and words...ahhhh life - she be very very good to me.
I thought we were supposed to be able to see other student's work. I was looking forward to that. I'm like you in the respect that I enjoy peering in to someone's written word. I've heard it said that all the words have been combined in all possible ways. I say Peeeshaw. Words are as individual as fingerprints in my book. Especially when they're allowed the freedom to flow from their own source. I keep checking out your page to the prompts and I only see our bits. Should I be looking somewhere else or simply minding my own business? Either way, my feelings won't be hurt. I've just never been afraid to ask.
I don't think that this will be it for the day. I just have to get some of this housework done. My desk is the only thing here clean. I'm impeccably disorganized except with school and work and there i am just impeccable. (Oh I love the written dance)
I can't believe that this is me. That was me driving home last night, my head full of chemistry. I'm taking ethics. Algebra and these two wirting courses. Yep. That's right. This is MY life. I'm not reading about it, I'm livin it. That's a huge deal for me. I'm going to make. I'm not going to stop this time. My dreams are jealous of my life. I don't know if I said that first. I just woke up one morning and there it was laying right on the tip of my tongue so I spoke it. And truer words could not be applied. Futhermore...I ain't skeert. I am, however going to have to insist that everyone who knows me call me Doctor for the first year after I get my doctorate. Even my kids. I think that's only fair.
Today is quiet. No class tonight. Hagen is sleeping soundly and I actually get to listen to tunes for a while. Music and words...ahhhh life - she be very very good to me.
I thought we were supposed to be able to see other student's work. I was looking forward to that. I'm like you in the respect that I enjoy peering in to someone's written word. I've heard it said that all the words have been combined in all possible ways. I say Peeeshaw. Words are as individual as fingerprints in my book. Especially when they're allowed the freedom to flow from their own source. I keep checking out your page to the prompts and I only see our bits. Should I be looking somewhere else or simply minding my own business? Either way, my feelings won't be hurt. I've just never been afraid to ask.
I don't think that this will be it for the day. I just have to get some of this housework done. My desk is the only thing here clean. I'm impeccably disorganized except with school and work and there i am just impeccable. (Oh I love the written dance)
posted by millay | 9/09/2005 10:10:00 AM
3 Comments:
I promise you will see your fellow students' work, but, alas, not yet. There are 11 people enrolled, but only seven have blogs at this point and some of those blogs are just empty shells. I'm hoping that with the rain and snow this weekend, people will coop in and do their darn work and that I'll have a full house by Monday.
When I do have that full house, I will put everyone's name on a link on the upper right of the website (next the names of some past students there now), and then you guys can kibitz. It's an important part of the class--it helps give perspective and even out those inevitable writer's highs and lows. You get to say to yourself (depending on your mood): 'I'm not the worst writer in the world after all!' Or: "Jeez, that piece of Billy's is so good I guess I'll have to kill myself after all.'
"I keep checking out your page to the prompts and I only see our bits"
Yeah, me too! In time, there ought to be 33 student pieces there, and some responses from me....
"I can't believe that this is me. That was me driving home last night, my head full of chemistry. I'm taking ethics. Algebra and these two wirting courses. Yep. That's right. This is MY life. I'm not reading about it, I'm livin it."
Okay, the other two posts were housekeeping posts. Let's talk writing. Those sentences interest me because they describe a sensation (the psychologists call it de-realization) that happens to people under drugs, with mental illness, OR (the case here) under life stress, change, anxiety, etc. Everything feels a little strange and unfamiliar.
I don't care about the psychological aspects of it, but here's the deal with writing: it sometimes is a very powerful effect if the writer introduces ordinary and mundance topics as if they were bizarre or introduces bizarre topics as if they were everyday.
Here you are dealing with your kids...and the periodic table. When you get out of journal mode and want to create that reality on the page, how do you do it? Plain jane, whitebread? Or something a little disconcerting to match the disconcerting material?
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