Shit got busy.

With the start of the new semester, my life got very busy. Four courses at Radford, one at ITT, and a plethora of life obstacles in between made my day-to day plans change completely. This is a typical week in the life of Shaylin:

M: Wake up at 6, get ready for work. Get to RU by 10 am (for office hours). Teach from 11-1, an hour break, 2-3, get home. Grade, take care of the animals, work on the house, something to keep me busy until 10 or so when I go to sleep.
T: I don't have class until 5, and office hours at 4. However, I find it hard to do anything during the day when I know I have to be somewhere in the evening. I just... can't. So I sit around and kint and feel sorry for myself.
W: Same as M, but I have to get straight from RU to ITT (get done with RU at 3, take the bus back home which lasts until 4, drive to ITT and plan like hell before class starts at 6), and stay there until 9:30. 10:30- home, bed.
R: 10-12, clean Steven's house. Then the same as T.
F: Same as M without the office hours.
Sat: Work on the house or help Tristan with her homework
Sun: See Sat.

It's not as busy as it could be. However, it's busy for my lazy ass. I've been working on the Beekeeper's quilt along with about 1k others and have contracted the hexipuff disease. I ordered some Phat Fiber and have been spinning a lot lately, too.

For the most part, we are all okay. We lost Andy's granddaddy today. My Auntie Gail is failing on us, as well. At least mum will get to go out to see her next week (in Oregon!), though.

I've had a disgusting eye infection or something for like a week. I don't want to go to the Dr. I'm hoping it'll just... go away or something. I can't wear makeup or contacts because it irritates my eyes too much.  But at least my skin is better. I still have those not-quite-healed-but-not-quite-scarred marks all over my arms and legs. It's not an ideal situation.

School is going decently. 102 is... well... just not really clicking for me this semester. It just makes me angry for some reason. I love research and of course I love teaching, but something is off. I suspect that it's because my class and I have not yet connected properly and the students seem to think that it's a waste of their time because of how I conduct the class. There are things I could do differently, I suppose, but it's always worked for me in the Spring. Just something about the Fall...

We're making progress on the house. I painted half of my bathroom and Andy cut a cat door hole in the door to the basement. I've been trying to keep up with laundry and dishes and have basically given up on my garden for the year. That's all I've got for now.

It's work(ing) again.

I'm trying really hard to get into "American Gods" by Neil Gaiman. I'm on page 63, and it's really really odd for me not to just devour any book that is put in front of me.  I've been trying for 3 days now, and it's just not grabbing me. What's this business with the man getting sucked into that chick's vagina? I mean... really. And the dead wife? Suddenly I'm like on a Nordic ship or something? Tell me it will even out and make sense because right now, I'm about to give up.

Today I cleaned Steven's house for the first time. It's so nice to move about in a fully air-conditioned house. Frank kept trying to eat (no, really, BITING) the vacuum cleaner. Aside from that, there were no hangups or anything. We are also boarding Frank and Herma this weekend since Steven will be camping. I really really wanted to go, as I haven't been properly camping since that awful week in Florida the month I turned 20. Ugh. But really, I love camping. However, I have to work.

Speaking of work, the adjuncts got a nice nasty email from the new Dean, who my students are calling "The Trunchbull," but I am starting to refer to as "Umbridge." One, no letting class out early. Like I do that anyway. Any of my students will tell you that I am super strict, down to the second, about what time I let them go. Second, no talking about suicide, death, or drugs in class. : / I'm pretty sure I can avoid the subjects, as I'm really just doing composition, but it's still kind of annoying being told what I can and cannot do. Three, even though classes are only 11 weeks, I am expected to keep my students for the full 3 hours during week 12 (finals week). I had something in the back of my mind trying to stretch out the time, but I really cannot guarantee that they will stay the whole time. They are adults, for fuck's sake. If they feel like they are done, they are done. And as it's the last "class" of the semester, they ARE done. Finally, something about failure advising. This one gets my goat more than the rest combined.

I need to tell a handful of students that they are failing and advise them as to what to do about it. I'm getting fussed at constantly about not doing this and not documenting it in our system. Guys. What can I do? How do I tell a student he/she is failing if I never see them? Call them? Leave a message since none are answering? Email? Fuck if I know. What it really bothering me here I think is that no one told me that this was something I needed to do. Apparently it was a mid-term thing, and we are going into week 9 now I think. How can I do what I'm supposed to do if I don't know that I am supposed to do it?

Things are starting to look a little up. I sincerely look forward to Radford starting. I will be so busy this semester, but I think it's for the best. It's less time for me to sit around and feel sorry for myself. I'm quite curious about how many classes I will be getting at ITT. If I get something similar to this quarter, September-December will look as such:

M: (RU) 11am-4pm (ITT) 6-10:30
T: (RU) 5-6:15 pm
W: (RU) 11am-4pm
R: Steven 10-12 (RU) 5-6:15 pm
F: (RU) 11-4 (ITT) 6-10:30
Sa: (ITT) 9am-1pm
Su: Dead.

It's worth it though. I work best when I am obligated and busy. I haven't missed a day at ITT because I know how important it is that I be there. There have been days that I could have called in; should have called in. See also: my fucked up face from eczema. I'm going to make sure all my shit is in order for Radford. Last semester I was plagued with a terrible classroom (fucking trailers) and electronics that were constantly out of order. This semester, I'm going to make sure all of my stuff is up on D2L early and that my students are sure of every single thing that's going on. I will answer my emails as best I can. I will probably stay in my office hours longer than I advertise. I will grade things as soon as they come across my desk. I am going to do all these things because I must, and I want to.

That's all I've got now.

So Much for the Afterglow

Andy is mad at me right now, I think. My birthday was pretty awesome, but since then I've been feeling down. I just now got home from a decidedly lackluster evening of attempting to educate completely apathetic adults. I would have killed for a clove cigarette (sorry- cigarillo) but none of the package stores are open when I'm driving home, so I settled for Camel Bold Crush things when I stopped for gas-- I was on empty.

And I'm on empty in my brain as well. Terrible segue. I got home, didn't say much, snagged my laptop and promptly headed to the back porch to type. It's actually quite nice- about 78 degrees (according to my car at least), overcast enough to make the barely waxing moonlight filter lightly on my computer just so that I can see what I am doing.

What am I doing? Meh. I had this whole idea planned out about trying to explain how I feel about birthdays, and my ideas about getting older, family, obligations, friends, life...

I had a good birthday. I usually don't. The subject of how shitty my birthdays usually are is a subject I have covered far too many times. I don't feel like it anymore. The past few have been good though. The addition of Andy in my life seems to have a lot to do with it. But I digress again. Saturday was very nice. Very calm, no annoyances, just friends and family eating and chatting and such. I like that. My brain was clear for one nice day, a clarity that lasted for most of Sunday as well. Then 27 set in.

27 has been my "lucky number" for as long as I can remember. It has a lot of significance to me; too many to mention here. It should have been an age I was looking forward too, right? Meh again. Then comes 28, 9, 30. I don't fear or abhor getting older. I guess I just wanted to feel happy and clear like I did  for most of the day on the 6th. And yeah, it's only bee a day and a half. Today just was a bad... something. It's not like I didn't sleep well. In fact, I sleep too well. By too well, I mean too much. Too long. Like my body wanted to compensate for that year that had suddenly been tacked onto my life.

Rolling this almost spent cigarette around in my hand, I'm just losing sense of direction. My husband is confused and disapproving, my dogs are confused as to why I am sitting out here and not in there with them, and even I am at a loss. I'm tired. I could sleep. But I won't.

Maybe here is a good place to state something about cigarettes and me. I seem to buy a pack a year, and it lasts me that whole year. It's not a coincidence that the pack in question is bought in late summer. I probably have about 2-3 dozen lighters around the house, packed up, shoved away, stowing in the nooks and crannies to convince myself that I have them in case I want to light a candle in and given part of the house and have a lighter within reach. Really though, it's because I stop to buy cigarettes and I need one right then and there, so I buy a lighter at the same time. So there's that.

Am I having a down day? Probably. Will I feel better tomorrow? Meh once again. I might. My car smells REALLY bad, so I'd like to at least clean it out. That's a project I can look forward to, right? Perhaps in another mood on a different day, I would joke about how the only thing in my car is everything I've ever owned. It's quite disgusting. But then, so is my mood when I am like this. I lose all will to take care of myself and don't want to be bothered. I hope to whoever that it won't get worse with age, but I know it will. It has. One day I'll wake up covered in bed sores and cat hair, my own hair shaven off because it's gotten to be too much to take care of anymore, and think: "You said you'd stop this. But you haven't."

It's that sneaky hate spiral. We all have ups and downs, but my downs are just getting worse and worse. The ups aren't as gratifying as they used to be. I crave companionship then push it away. I desire the ability to cry and show some semblance of human (non-cunty) emotion, but just... can't. I'm no different from anyone else. I know other people feel this way every day, and some don't even have the happiness to look forward to. Who am I to sit and whine about this? I'm Shaylin. Hi.

I'm not glowing. I'm fading. I am not a vibrant, intelligent, intuitive young woman anymore. I was once. I, I, I. Maybe I should start focusing on something else.

I think (I GAHHH IIII*) that might be my new goal for this week. Epiphany!


*As an English teacher, I say it's okay to use "I" in moderation, but all of my damn blog posts have "I" in them at least a few dozen times. IIIIIIII! I is not a bad word. You're the schmuck who's reading this shit anyway. Right?

The Waydown

I'm friggin tired. I've been tired all day. I bled from my nose for several hours. My #2 is iffy at best, explosive at worst. I have the donkey cough. I've barely been able to eat. I'm out of miiiiiiilk gah! I'm still awake because I am a.) unable to sleep and b.) waiting for my crops to mature for harvest. DONT JUDGE ME! I joined a co-op and I wold feel like an asshole if I didn't at least try...

My knitting will never get done. I finally got to 73 on weatherfield. I read all of "The Absolutely True Diary of a part-time Indian" today in about an hour or so. I wanted to cry when i was done. I actually got some research done, but of course it's all about Sherman Alexie. Surely Tim understands that he dominates the field of not just funny Native American literature, but  Native American literature in general.

My cats all snore. Andy snores. I don't think I snore, but my nose and throat are so dry lately that it wouldn't surprise me.

I have a week left, then I graduate. Then I have to procure a real job. My annoyance level is rising at an alarming rate. I'm definitely taking it out on the wrong people, because I am too chickenshit to say anything to the right people. I just want to lay low until the 7th and let grad school become a distant "well that was interesting" memory/life lesson.

I don't think I was properly equipped or prepared to go to grad school. Undergrad wasn't difficult even in the slightest for me. Grad school, to be frank, was only difficult because I have shitty organization and prioritizing skills. Not to say that the work wasn't difficult... it kind of was, mostly just because of the quantity. At any rate, about a million things have fallen to the wayside, including my marriage. That's definitely the worst part.

I haven't worn my wedding ring in a week. I'm pretty sure I haven't kissed Andy in just as long, if not longer. I haven't told him I love him in a while either. I'm an asshole; I've been assured of this from outside sources. I have poor prioritizing skills, remember?  I should be sleeping, curled up next to him, but I'm an asshole. I'm a selfish jerk. I'm a proud bitch. I'm just a confused 25 year old little girl that can;t get her head on straight. I am a chronic life ruiner.

No, no, I'm not asking for pity. Nor am I asking for more people to assure me of what a dick I am. Trust me, I get that shit daily. I'm just writing stuff down.

Andy asked me a few weeks back what I would ideally do if I could. I immediately responded that I wish I could make a living off of writing. I don't think I am the most well spoken or the most interesting person in the world, but christ if Laura Fuckin Bush can get her shitty book published (and I mean, come on, what the hell is so interesting about her other than her remarkable ability to put up with a moron 5 year old for a husband?), why can't I get anything published?

Because I haven't tried is why.

Without being too dramatic, that really is the story of my life.

I've gotten through this far without stretching myself out too far, without going out on a limb, without taking risks. I'm safe. I know that's not the foremost adjective that comes to mind when someone ponders my being, but in all honesty, I'm a pretty safe gal. I don't do a goddamn thing that makes me uncomfortable (because it's pretty hard to do that), I don't make myself do anything too difficult (I like to say I know my limits), and I definitely don't deliberately make things harder on myself.

Unlike some people I know...

At any rate, I'm fucking tired. I want to try and eat something and keep it down. I'm cold. I can' bring myself to knit anymore tonight, nor write anymore.

I should have expected this.

Ugh. I just did preliminary midterm grades and without brekaing the law or anything, they are bad. Then, I get two emails in a row from students saying that they can't turn in their final paper today because some tragedy has befallen them. I have no idea how to reply.

I don't take stuff via email. Nothing. So when they say: "Can I email it to you?" it should be so easy for me to just hit reply and say: "No." But I can't. I'm not sure why. Maybe part of me believes that they are acturally telling the truth, but for the most part, I don't.

I don't want to send out a mass email saying "Hey kids I don't accept stuf via email" but I also don't want a confrontation in class over it. I am so very annoyed.

I just thought about it for a moment.

Student-

I cannot accept anything--especially major papers-- via email. You are more than welcome to bring it to me during my office hours, but please bear in mind that each calendar day that it is late is 5 points off the paper as a whole.

-Shaylin

The Rejects of Bravo Company

So I finished my mini- memoir. I told my students I would be unavailable from 2 this afternoon till 8 tomorrow morning, because I figured I would need that time to work on it. I finished at 15 till 4; it was due at 5 pm tonight. I'm feeling pretty good about myself.

I got to the part about Fletcher, and had to make a hard decision. Yeah, the dude jumped out of a window, but was it my job as the narrator to comment on how little I cared? I decided it was. That guy was a dick, regardless of what ended up happening to him.

For obvious reasons, I will not post it here. If you are interested in my time served--err spent in Basic training, I can send it to you via email. Only, it's 16 pages long (Emilee's was 6 pages. Whoopsies) and is not written chronologically. I like to jump around in my writing.

Do I want to get it published? That would be awesome. However, I would need to change names, and I fear that people I knew back then would come forward and points out the holes in my story. For instance, I combined characters. You have to though, I think, in order to make this sort of thing interesting. I know for a fact that the base will deny Fletcher jumping from a 5th story window. We only knew about it because, well, if you ever read it, you will know.

Rick kept commenting on my previous free writes on this subject: "You must write about this!" so I figured that's what he wanted. The exercises in the book kept telling me to crack scenes open, ad nauseum, so 16 pages of cracked scenes is what you get.

Reliability of the narrator, my ass.

YMCA lies, goodwill kind of sucks, and my philanthropy is a little misguided...

So, Andy and I made the executive decision to clean out the junk room. There is a good reason for the name... After we found out that my 2 year old 19-inch TV didn't stay on anymore, and that Andy's old CD player is a piece of junk, we agreed that giving them to Goodwill would be our best option. Hell, if they can't sell them, I feel sure they know where to recycle them.

While out, we found this fantastic record player cabinet at the YMCA thrift shop, and the sticker on it proudly proclaimed, "WORKS!" It didn't. The needle head was missing, and since it was rather old, we saw no reason to waste our efforts on finding a replacement. Plus it was heavy as hell.

So, we schlepped around BBurg a little, found nothing there, then went to CBurg, bought some random crap at a different Goodwill store, and decided on a nice iPod/stereo system for the junk room. Oh, and we bought a new flat screen for the junk room too. I figured out that the cat pee smell was not, as I had originally thought, on the carpet. Rather, it was from a pile of clothes my cats had made into a bathroom. I tossed them out.

Now the Junk room looks less junky. We're going to move the Wii and Wii accessories in there, to get them out of the living room, all of the cat jungle stuff is in there, and I moved the chairs back a bit, so there is more room for Wii fit and Rock Band. I am pretty excited and upbeat about the cleaning going on in my home.

I knit a few more repeats of the scarf while doing laundry today. I was very proud of myself because although Andy was with me, I didn't ask him to do anything. He almost always does the laundry, as I am kind of lazy about it. Now that I am not in school, it seems I have more time to just be productive. Let's hope I can keep it up all summer....