so many papers are creeping up on me. but i am trying to think of all the short (5-7 page) papers i have due this term as a good thing. i need to get better at writing short, good, papers, often. so i am trying to see the bright side of it all.
i'm actually not feeling too overwhelmed.
except that i have to start going to the symbolic logic tutor regularly. i was following everything just fine. but then i got lost. very very lost. and i'm sure it's a simple thing that has tripped me up. and i need some one on one help clearing it up and getting back on track. but the second quiz i got a D! i went from an A on the first quiz to a D within two weeks. so that's alright, in that at least i am finding out early on that i need to get on top of things. i actually really feel like it's something i can do, with a bit of help. and i don't feel so bad about a D, since it will be the best 7/10 that count towards 70% of the class mark. i'd rather know now, and hope that it will end up being one that doesn't count (the lowest 3 scores will not count). if it had been a midterm worth 20% or more, i'd be shitting.
all my other classes are super good.
my middle eastern cinemas class is so fantastic! it's all post-colonial, anti-imperialist, radical, non-popular cinema. youssef chahine- egypt- is rocking my world! i really don't think i'll do poorly in that class. it is just so awesome! right up my alley.
popular asian cinema is alright. it's interesting enough, but of course it's POPULAR cinema. so a broad representation of the mainstream stuff from mainland china, india, japan, thailand...i suppose alot of people in that class are stoked about seven samurai, akira and crouching tiger. me, not so much. but it's interesting none-the-less.
then of course the self study of irish cinema is going well. it's all tailored specifically for me and my particular interests. and it's not as much an intro, or we are zooming through the 'intro' because i already have working knowledge of irish cinema and culture/history. it's cool to work with jerry though, cause he is such a brillant and funny teacher. that whole course is just meetings and discussions, one on one. with 90% of my mark being a 20 page research paper at the end of the term. i'm quite excited to have the chance to work on a longer paper, with a prof readily available. we don't really have the opportunity to do that unless one is an honor student. in canada there are no under-grad thesis'. which makes me fear grad school a bit, without that opprotunity to work on a longer paper, researching and bouncing ideas off an advisor. it's a good thing.
in other non-academic areas of my hectic life, harper has been doing really well in kindergarden. i am having a much harder time adjusting to it.
we were told only two weeks before the start of school that she had to go into morning k-garden. the daycare would not accomodate afternoon class. so my poor kidlet has gone from 5 years of waking up around 9am, to having to be dragged awake at 7:30. it sucks.
i mean, we are doing it. but it sucks. she is so tired and cranky.
and i really do not like her teacher. so that is a whole seperate kettle of fish...or whatever they say.
too, the edmonton film festival started last night. being that i work at one of the venues, it is highly unlikely that i will see anything. though i am going to try and see "ten canoes" again on tuesday after my night class. but with evening classes, having my wisdom teeth out this coming friday, thursday nights at the video store and two essays due in a week, yeh...not gonna happen.
oh well.
such is life.
oh, also i've finally got all our subsidies and benefits squared away. i finally just called the MLAs office and explained all the trouble and they took care of everything. i need to send a thank you card to the woman over there, because she has been so extremely helpful. and she even said to me that she could not believe the mess they had made of our programs. she said we will never get screwed around again. and if anything like this remotely begins again to call her immediately. it was really nice to get that sort of validation. glad to know it wasn't only me who thought that all this trouble was ridiculous. and it took her even two or three weeks to sort through it all and figure out what the problem was. pretty unbelievable.
but it's done. and that is one less thing i have to deal with.
phew.

is not having to acknowledge that privilege. And another part of it is being able to dismiss the hurt, anger, pain, oppression you or your white friends inflict, knowingly or inadvertently, on the people of color around you.

This week I'm feeling more and more the need for a safe space. Preferably a POC safe space because I'm tired of having to justify why I'm angry. Why I'm hurt. Why a seemingly innocuous comment--even one meant with the most benevolent of intentions--feels like a slap in the face.

I don't think any of my white friends--even those who attended the anti-oppression training with me--want to hear my rage. Especially not when it's directed towards other friends, friends who we expect to be more enlightened and with it and whom we don't want to acknowledge as having their own racist baggage.

Perhaps I'm just jumping to conclusions. Perhaps said white friends are simply busy and don't have time to get back to me right now with their thoughts and input. I wonder how much of that is me feeling overly sensitive about the whole issue and how much of that is an internalization of the greater white society telling me, "You're making too big a deal out of this. Drop it. Just forget it. Why are you still angry a week later? Why do you have to make everything about race anyway?"

Believe me. It would be a lot easier if I were white. Then I could go to an anti-oppression training over the weekend, feel overwhelmed, and then make sure I was too busy during the week to give all this new information much thought. I could occupy my mind with going out drinking with (white) friends, go see music every night, other things that don't involve any sort of self-examination.

But I'm not white. And so I don't have that option.

I have not yet figured out a way to channel this rage into something more constructive. Otherwise I will walk around feeling angry, feeling a ball of hurt and bewilderment in my stomach, dash off e-mail replies that are more aggressive than they need to be because I am pissed.

I guess I can start by seeing if I can make copies of the corrected version of the catalog cover. It won't undo anyone else's stupid racist comments, but it *is* something that needs to be done, regardless of other people's stupidity.

Sometimes paper is the only thing that will listen to you.

I'm having these little surges of I-don't-know-what. I suspect that if they were stronger they might be dizziness, or nausea. As it is, they're neither. But I'm not really happy with it, whatever it is, because it strikes me as being a bad thing to be driving long distances with. I'll make sure I get plenty to eat and drink, and it's not as though I'll be alone. My mother is coming out to drive east with the kids and me.

Other than that, I'm not too tense aobut preparing for this trip on my own. I'd *rather* have B here, of course, but I can do it myself. With lots of help from the kids, but then, I'd be getting that whether B is here or not.

P is showing some tension from having B away for so long. He's taken a lot of responsibility, watching F and V when I have to be out of the house. Tomorrow, he's going to finish his work and packing as early as he can, then join a friend as soon as school's over. I think it's a good thing. I tend to lean on him too much. He's a responsible kid, but he's only thirteen.

I have a list of everything that needs to be done tomorrow, and another for Thursday morning (mostly because I don't want to flake out and leave windows open.) I think I'd better turn on the heat, to a reasonable temperature, before we go, because it can get cold in October and the guinea pigs can't take the cold. They aren't like the rabbit, who lives outside cheerfully right through Chicago winters. She's adapted. They are not.

I wasn't sure about getting the guineas. I was afraid that either the kids would neglect them and B and I would be saddled with them, or that the kids would lose interest in playing with them, and they'd be like the rabbit, cared for but nothing more. The kids seems to be quite attached to the guineas, though. A guinea pig is a nice warm handful if you're in the mood for a lightweight, no-strings-attached snuggle. And I never have to clean the cage.

I just have to buy guinea pig food. *sigh* I'm such a cheapskate.

We have a half-bale of hay for the guineas and the rabbit. The local pet stores only carry bags, and they're pricey, not to mention the fact that the animals go through them incredibly quickly. The half-bale is a lot cheaper, and it's compressed, so it doesn't take up much space and lasts a long time.

We ordered the first half-bale on-line -- even with delivery it's cheaper than the pet stores -- and then discovered to our embarrassment that the company who sells them is located in the next town over. We can go over and pick up hay and avoid shipping charges. We're cheap enough to do it, too.

The weather is definitely colder. I've brought V and F's tuberous begonias in from the deck. Last year we had a little two-level stand that held two pots of geraniums, but I let them get winter-killed. (I don't know if geraniums are perennials anyway.) This year, both V and F were absolutely dying to have a plant apiece, so I let them choose between an annual to plant in the garden, a perennial to plant in the garden, or the begonias. They both chose begonias, V pink, and F red. So the begonias graced our deck all summer long, alternating between pretty blossoms and shedding petals like a husky in Florida. Now they're just inside the sliding doors, miraculously not in anybody's way (I would not have guessed that there was room for anything there, but it works,) and rather pretty. I have to remember to put a note for P's girlfriend, who is petsitting for us while we're away, to water the begonias.

I think I'll take my laptop with me (it has our entire itinerary except for the super-secret possible side-trip on the way home,) but I think I'll also try to stay off the Net while we're away. It might be hard -- I'll have access to B's laptop, which has a cell connection -- but it's about time I took a break. I should pack some books and make sure I take time to read, too, because one of the things that makes me crazy when I visit family is that I never get any time alone, and so I never get a chance to recharge. Maybe I'll get up early (oh, yeah, that'll happen, ha, ha, ha) and go to the coffee shop each morning. Sure I will.

Well hello, I’m back. Six months since my last post here? I can’t remember. All I know is that the amount of writing I’m doing on a regular basis is completely in the toilet, and my life isn’t hectic enough to come up with any good excuses – because you know I would milk it if I could. And 300 Words has always worked for me, nudging the words out of my fingers and onto the screen. So here I am.

The only real exposition needed here is that the job situation turned fortuitously. The magazine I worked for stopped publishing, and my boss donated 82 years of venerable and fascinating archives to a major New York City university in return for office space and a job for me. So now I’m an employee of the major New York City university’s large and stately library’s Rare Books and Manuscript Department, ostensibly as an Archival and Editorial Assistant – that’s my title – but also, as it turns out, Mr. Cranky’s personal handler. I’ve landed on my feet in a big way, but it’s not without its deal-with-the-devil aspects.

Still: The pay is decent, after 2½ years of starvation wages. The benefits are excellent. The place is gorgeous, mannerly and bookish. And my commute is now under half an hour. It’s a three year contract, after which point I’ll have to apply for another job within the library system. But I have my foot in the door, and after nearly a month I have to say I like it there and wish to stay.

Staying involves, among other things, keeping Mr. Cranky from making scenes. He’s persona non grata there already, but I seem to be making allies. I’m certainly trying hard enough – I’m very conscious of the need to position myself independently of him. This is a highly bureaucratic academic institution – I’ll be getting evaluations, having to come up with goals to meet, that kind of thing. I’m going to need to show them what I can do. And at the same time keep a grown man, whom I basically like and sometimes respect but who also drives me up the fucking wall, from having hissy fits. This is taking all my diplomatic grownup skills, believe me.

I’ve been gaining confidence as I go. Today threw me, though. It wasn’t Mr. C but Barbara, a sour woman who did all the clerical stuff and retired when I showed up there 2½ years ago, and who’s been coming in to do the books once or twice a month since then. She’s a kind person – a friend of my mom’s, actually, which is how I heard about the job in the first place – but a sour individual and smells like an ashtray.

I won’t go into the details, which are boring and long and political. The main event was that she had a tantrum on the phone with me, of the strident and self-righteous variety – irrational, unwarranted, and a bit freaky. And it wasn’t your adult version of a two year old thrashing on the sidewalk, because this involved my job. My cool new job that I really want to not just hang on to, but do well in. She was going on and on, yelling into the phone, and I was sitting there using every ounce of self-control I had not to go off on her. She wasn’t angry at me, but rather the university bureaucracy – which was frustrating, yes, but not worthy of a major freakout.

I sat there with the phone to my ear and she ranted, and I countered in the calmest voice I could muster. It was like a sword fight – she had the power to hurt me, badly, and I was using every bit of concentration I had to make the right moves. She demanded to speak to Mr. Cranky. I asked her not to – because that’s what this was all about, not giving him the opportunity to go off. “You’re not going to let me speak to him?� she thundered. “I’m asking you not to get him involved.� I said. “I can take care of all of this so everyone's happy.� So calmly. My two officemates, I know, could hear it all, as could the IT guy who was three feet away from me working on the computer. All of them good eggs, too, so that didn’t bother me so much. But the conversation, honestly, scared me. I can’t quite explain why. I think it was the relentlessness of her indignation that just did not wind down, like arguing with some man who you don’t trust not to get violent. In her selfishness she could have turned on me and gone to Mr. C, and he would have roared, and I would have suffered for it. Or maybe not. I think what really freaked me out was the discrepancy in the stakes. She was operating out of a sense of bitter personal righteousness and nothing more, and I was trying to protect my livelihood. She’s retired and was lashing out at the personal inconvenience, and I was fighting to be able to pay my bills and eat. It really was a battle of wills, and it left me exhausted.

In between two of her calls I was able to pick one of my officemates’ brains about what to do, who to go to and who to bypass. All hugely political, and luckily she’s the library accounts manager and knows exactly how the whole spiderweb works. She didn’t so much tell me what to do as let me talk it out and give me good advice, so I could come to a decision on my own that sounded right. At the end of the day I thanked her and apologized – “I really don’t want to be the office drama queen.� She was very cool about it.

So yeah, work soap opera. I couldn’t be doing this if I had any other drama in my life, but aside from my darling E in Colorado, crawling slowly back from a violent car accident and six weeks in a coma, everything is very calm around these parts. J is unemployed by choice – he left the Job From Hell and is concentrating on finishing his night classes and getting some of the certifications he’s been studying for. He’s nervous about not having any income, understandably, but then again it’s only been a week and a half. I’m sure something will turn up. And at least he’s out from under those crazy bastards. The pets are fine and extremely sweet. We bought a king sized bed so everyone could sleep together. The Squid is in his second year of college and is a certified EMT – he rides with the school ambulance service and has applied for a part-time job with the town emergency squad. Thinks he might want to go to med school. Oy. But honestly, I couldn’t be prouder of him. He’s doing well and is happy (and extremely tall and handsome) – not much more I could want than that.

I won’t make all of ‘em this long, promise. That was just a big vent.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Literature is mostly about having sex, and not much about having babies; life is the other way round." - David Lodge

Let's whine a little.

My mother called and wants details for next week. This is fine and understandable, but does she have to sound like she's pissed off? I think Mom's stressed because she and Dad aren't in agreement about the construction and we're coming to visit in the middle of it (I warned them the contractor wouldn't be done in time, but she kept insisting it wouldn't be an issue even if he wasn't.) She's angry about something, anyway, and I know it isn't me. But she's crabby. Do I make a subtle suggestion that she needs to go have a couple of sessions with her therapist instead of just going to group? I'd rather stay home ...

So I'm stressed. I need to talk our plans through with B and talk with Mom, and I think I need to stand up on my hind legs and say were getting a hotel room.

Man.

Woman.

Save me.

If only she'll keep quiet about *that* *subject*. Especially since it has nothing. To do. With me. I might have to say something about that, too (and I'd better think of something more tactful than, "Shut the hell up!")

Stress. Stress, I say.

I'll call Mom tomorrow. I'll pin B down between now and then.

Then there's B's party. We need to do some organizing, but he's traveling, and we're traveling, and there just isn't much going on. Need to sit down and deal ...

I want a vacation, and I *don't* want to take it at my parent's house.

Ok, when I'm sitting up at eleven o'clock at night, cruising and posting, there's something wrong. Ultimate bedtime is ten o'clock. It's especially bad since I was up until past three last night. Hmm. Lack of security blanket, obviously -- he's on the West Coast.

He's also sick, which sucks -- he's at a whole week full of useless meetings, and he can't just call in and go back to bed, which is probably what he needs.

I want him home. I can deal with a couple of nights, but much longer than that and I start getting restless in the evenings. This is Bad, and it doesn't help with my bad mornings, either. It's not a lack of sleep thing, it's a lack of relax thing.

I think we should have taken a closer look at our overall schedule for August, September, and October. We traveled for a weekend, then B traveled, then family came, then we had a scant two weeks off, and now B is traveling, and is traveling next week, and the rest of us will travel to meet him in Philadelphia at the end of next week, after which we will spend ten days with family. *sigh* I'm not particularly stressed out, but I do feel stretched out.

Either I have a very minor cold (I don't think so) or I'm having an allergic reaction to something. Stuffed up runny nose, and watery eyes. Blech. It's not improving my evenings, either, since I hate going to bed with a stuffy nose -- I can't breathe. And it just makes me feel draggy.

I feel as though I'm checking out of mamahood this week. What a week to pick. The kids need me to be at least a little engaged. But I'm having such a totally immobile time. Don't want to get out of bed. Don't want to supervise chores (I've long since jettisoned school for the week.) Don't want to get out of the house (although I dutifully did so.) Just don't wanna, I guess.

My parents' house is under construction. I told my mother it would be (I know the contractor who is doing the work, and it was a gimme that it would start too late and be a huge nuisance. It's a two-bedroom house, and they're adding a third bedroom for the purposes of housing children and grandchildren on visits East. Thing is, the new room is being built off of one of the two existing bedrooms, which means chaos in the bedroom. That's where the kids usually sleep. B and I sleep in the living room. We've done this for two weeks at a stretch before, but while things are under construction? Mom and Dad insist that it will be okay, but B and I both think they are nuts. The trick will be to get a hotel room and persuade them that this is not the end of the world. For heaven's sake, they've done the hotel thing while visiting us, and our house is much bigger than theirs. So that's a little insanity waiting for us.

The last two times we've been home (once planned, once for an emergency) we've planned a few specific things, but pretty much winged it on everything else. This time I want to sit down with B and do some more concrete planning, because winging it makes my mother uneasy, and when she's uneasy, she makes sure I'm uneasy, too. She doesn't do it consciously, but she still does it.

In a way, I wish we were doing something similar to what we did the last time we planned a trip East. We took two weeks, and the middle seven days we spent Somewhere Else. Specifically, we went to the Jersey Shore. Penguin and his family came to join us, Model Man came to join us, B's parents came to join us, but all only for a day or two (except for Model Man, but he's family-of-the-heart) and we had plenty of time to be just us, without worrying anybody else or living in anybody else's house. It was renewing. This time, we won't be doing that.

"Family Day" is apparently September 25. Have a sit-down dinner with your family. B's company is trying to encourage this, although if they were serious about encouraging family togetherness they'd quit pinching a penny, hire some more people, and ease off the sixty-hour weeks. So there's a contest. Write one hundred words about your family dinner on Family Day, win a two-day trip for the whole family. Yippee. So B wants me to write it up for him.

I have no objection, although it's anybody's guess which day we'll actually sit down and have dinner together. We are a very tight-knit family, and we spend so much time doing many things together that sitting down for dinner isn't so crucial. Plus it means clearing off the dining room table, which is not a simple undertaking. So I suppose it's possible that I'll actually end up writing up some other family dinner we've had. Or not had, as the case may happen to be. Whatever. I have promised that I will not write up the dinner starting with commentary about how it's hard to have family dinners when the company keeps sending B off hither and yon.

I finally wrote my essay for chocobot and sent it off. It took me a bunch of false starts, but then I got a grip on what it was I was trying to say (and on the fact that up until then I'd been trying to rewrite Marritt Ingman into a page and a half!) and things went swimmingly.

As a matter of fact I got a bunch of things done today. F has her new unitard (complete with matching scrunchie, which she keeps calling a "bungie") and is duly signed up for her next session. I picked up the new round brush and a fat curling iron. (I can't believe I once again own a curling iron.) I hope the round brush is big enough -- after I'd already bought it, Sarah called up and told me where she'd gotten hers, which I liked better than the one I bought.

You know it shows where the money comes from -- Sarah called up to check with me about how the new dye job and cut were working for me. I have rarely had a doctor call me up at an appropriate interval after putting me on a medication or ordering tests to make sure everything is copacetic. My current gyn calls after appointments with the results of blood tests. She calls *herself*, rather than having one of the nurses do it, and she calls whether the results are positive or negative. My psychiatrist makes my appointments at shorter intervals when we've changed my meds, long enough to know whether the med is working and whether there are going to be any nasty side effects. That's the way it *should* be, but not too many doctors are as aware of the needs of their customers as hairstylists are. That's sad.

The truth about the hair is, too, that it was not too successful today, probably because I didn't have the round brush to play with. Without the round brush to shape things a bit, I just looked bushy. I'll work with the round brush for a couple of days, to get the hang of it, and then I'll bring out the curling iron so that I know what I'm doing for H's wedding. No bushyness for H's wedding (although I doubt H would notice, and I don't care about what anybody else thinks except for C, 'cause it's H and C's wedding, and as long as they don't care, I don't care. But for myself I will practice with the curling iron.

Me. In front of the mirror with a curling iron. Lady have mercy, has it come to this?

Yes, it's true, I may be becoming someone my younger self would laugh at. However, I can already laugh at my younger self for her religious views, so I think I come out ahead on points.

Great. Now I'm competing with my own past. Over something that both of us would agree is a little ridiculous. My heart, it's time to go to bed. Maybe this time around, I'll sleep.

I need to write about mothering and mental health for chocobot. Since I missed my time out today (nobody's fault but my own) I'll take it tomorrow, maybe in the morning, and work on it then. On the other hand, since P is staying home from classes tomorrow night, maybe I'll do it then, since he'll be available to watch his sisters. Note to self: do not, I repeat not, forget that F has class tomorrow. Missing V's class on Monday was more than enough.

I got my hair cut and colored today. (Or more accurately the other way 'round.) For once a stylist was actually willing to sit and talk with me about some options, rather than just asking, "What do you want?" or assuming that they already knew what was best for me. Hence the color: chocolate brown with caramel highlights. You know someone had to suggest that -- if I'd chosen myself, I'd have gone for red every time, but this looks really good. The cut seems to have given my hair permission to do something rather than droop dispiritedly, too, so I have to say that overall it was a success. On the other hand, mama mia! so expensive. I want my hair cut so that I can live with it, but I don't want to be miserable paying for it. Darn it, I used to have a stylist who cut well and charged a reasonable amount. *sigh*

Next thing you know, I'll be in there having manicures and pedicures. Huh. In theory I'd like to have my nails cared for like that, but in practice I'm not willing to do it myself and I really don't think I can bring myself to spend the money on having someone else do it for me.

B's away, so he won't see the new cut until Saturday. I teased him about it on the phone (I'd threatened to go with purple spikes) by answering all his questions with things like, "Well, yes, we colored it." "What color?" "Well, a color." Heh.

I've been doing some thinking recently about automatically rebelling against things I need to do. I either need to acquire the self-discipline to do things in spite of rebellion, or I need to rethink my attitudes. Both, probably.

I need to buy shoes. Ick. I have no dress shoes, except for a pair of sandals that are only sort of dressy, and in any case not appropriate for late September. H is getting married, and while I'm sure she would be amused by (if she even noticed) any unique footgear I might come up with, I don't have any unique footgear. So I need black dress shoes. Maybe I'll like wearing them better if they fit better than the last ones. The last ones fit when I bought them, but then I had a couple of babies ... For a while there I assumed that my feet had just gotten less tolerant of heels, but finally I realized that my toes were crowded right into the points of the shoes and that plain and simple they were too small. Oh.

I don't like it. B is away this week and next week, and at the end of next week my mother and I will take the kids and drive east to PA. B will meet us there. That's too much time for B to be away (I hate it when they schedule week-long meetings back-to-back) and for us then to be traveling. And I've had just enough of a cold to make me miserable and ineffective at parenting. I feel a little bit as though things are out of control.

I couldn't get out of bed yesterday or today (except long enough to call off dentist appointments due to sickness) and getting the kids to do dishes for some reason was just dreadful. Yesterday it was because it was P's job, and P was feeling pretty bad with bronchitis. I didn't want him to do the job anyway, but his sisters seemed to be oblivious to every request I made that they do the job. Today, F didn't get started until it was four o'clock and I informed her that she wasn't going to judo class because the dishes weren't done. That finally motivated her. But they'd have gotten done in the morning had I been up and alert.

I think it's time for me to quit avoiding and call the sleep lab. Even though I've been doing my best to get in bed and fall asleep, I can't seem to get up any earlier than 9:30. If I do (usually because there is something I *have* to be up for) then I end up going back to bed later. Tired out. This week has been worse than usual because I'm sick, but it's still out of control.

"Out of control." Yeah, that's how I feel right now. Not manic out of control, fortunately, but as though things are slipping through my fingers.

time is something that feels very foreign to me. getting back into the swing of classes is incredibly bizarre this time around. i don't know why. i'm adjusting ok. i am ready for a very heavy course load, lots of papers to write and TONS of articles/books to read...on top of film labs. it's alot.
but today i lost track of time between classes (i have 3 hours) and ended up missing my women's studies class. so i came home, instead of waiting another 4 hours till my 6:30 pm class.
i read the most informative essay on melodrama today by thomas elsasser. it was by far the clearest explaination of the genre. and has brought to mind the portugese film "two drifters" i saw in NYC in june. all reviews likened it to a work of sirk's, steeped in irony and pathos. uber-melodrama extraordinaire. finally i get it.
i know, i'm a film studies major...but i tend to steer clear of hollywoodisms style classes and all the 'genre' stuff. i'd rather spend my time learning about post-colonialist cinema and the problems of national identity. politically charged material. so really, i know very little about hollywood genres and conventions outside my own experience of viewing and light reading for my own interests.
all in all i'm glad i came home this afternoon. it's much more comfortable here. and the day will pass with ease until i have to return to class.
last week i sat around for the 3 hours waiting.
at least i can spend my time getting reading done. i have a ton of reading...such as this piece on melodrama.
i still have several pages on cinema of maghreb before class. then 2 days of catch up on women's studies. at least those readings are short.
yet another letter in the mail saying my health care subsidy has been cancelled. fuck me.
i don't have the time to deal with such BS.
in fact i hate beaurocracy so much, i'd rather practice provisional calculus for my symbolic logic class.
yeh, that says it all.
and i wish i had some ripe tomatoes that smell keenly of dirt, and a few perfect avocados. and that is all i want to eat. tomatoes and avocados.
it was my birthday yesterday and i watched "crows and sparrows" "battle of algiers" and "l'enfant". all excellent, though fun would be an inappropriate word.
i'm exhausted.
i need more/better sleep.
i need to go to bed at a regular time.

for work purposes. I only got to bed at 3 this morning and need to do a late-night painting session.

today is gonna be fun.

I still haven't written that letter to my grandma yet. I *did* print ONE photo from Montreal yesterday--of a Canadian anarchist mama, her punk rock partner from Mexico City, and their adorable 7-month-old all bundled up and sitting in a stroller. It was a problematic negative; I had the feeling it wasn't going to be a good printing day. I was slow to get out of the house and on days like that, I know my chances of productivity are shot. I remember the mornings that MP would stay over and I wouldn't stumble into work till about noon or so, I would get no writing done.

That was back when work was a place that I *could* get writing done. Before I foolishly agreed to try this new job that sucked up more of my time. Before my days started to feel really scattered and I felt like I was taking on too much and not staying on top of everything that I needed to stay on top of.

But I remember those days and yesterday afternoon, sitting in the gallery talking with L before the drummer started pounding away, I realized that this still holds true. Had I left the house before noon, there was still a good chance of making my darkroom day productive. Because I hadn't, I should have brought other things to do. A roll of film or two (or five) to develop. Or maybe I should have just stuck with making proof sheets.

The morning before was more productive. I dropped dd off at school and then headed to the darkroom, printed a bunch of small resin snapshots of a band while waiting for an artist from New Orleans to show up with her work. I got 5 or 6 done before she did. then I checked my email and headed off to work, walked through the mostly-closed Feast of San Gennaro streetfair, stopped at the Vietnamese deli to buy more Vietnamese coffee and a vegan lemongrass chicken sandwich, got to work with enough time to eat before my first meeting of the day.

Unless I can get a nap in in the middle of the day, I can't imagine that today is going to be anywhere near that. I did manage to buy stamps yesterday at the post office, so at least I can get some one-pounders out before slopping paint all over myself.

Or maybe I'm underestimating the power of lots of good strong coffee laced with soy milk and brown sugar.

things are changing. but not bad changes. just tweaking i guess. it's good. i feel as though i may be able to breathe.
school feels right. but i also feel apart. maybe it is the delayed, staggered start. but it's not an overwhelmed sort of shutting down. it's an ipod induced trance floating around the world in the rain, under a cold grey sky between film screenings. just going about my dailies. with thoughts preoccupying my brain.
and some nervousness about the location of my thoughts. but i think an exciting nervousness as long as i don't let it overwhelm me. i can control it. that is my mantra, as i thread the projector. drive around listening to david bowie. check my email too many times a day. read voraciously. ride the bus.
this could be the beginning of a mixed state. i feel euphorically melancholy, simultaeously jittery and sad.
and i'm watching some weird reality tv show about jenna jaimeson. i just realised the program that was once on, has ended.
it's late.

As crunchtime draws nearer, I'm checking my e-mail incessantly.

We have work from one person so far. Well, two people if you count the two 11x14 photos of squats on the levee of New Orleans that I'm putting in.

I'm supposed to meet an artist tomorrow morning to get four of her works. Another photographer is going to finish printing her works on Friday (supposedly). She is well aware that we begin hanging on Monday.

Tonight, I have guests over for dinner. I have to clear my kitchen table when I get home. I have to borrow a hotplate from my neighbor so I can somehow cook enough spaghetti for four people. (I may need to borrow a big pot as well. Maybe I should see about borrowing one from the FNB kitchen. I would just need to scour it first)

I'm trying to figure out why my kitchen table is always such a mess. It seems that all of my projects end up there, despite my best intentions. I know I have piles of photos that need to be put into albums. (It's raining today. I don't know if I feel like going out and about to various 99 cent stores to find photo albums) I have a large envelope of Second Line photos that "The Sun" rejected. There are the leftover lists of books for further reading on the Chinese in South Africa from the three-week art exhibition I was in.

Que mas?

After the show opens, there is the training. And after that, a reading in NJ and another uptown. A trio of houseguests, one right after the other, it seems. That means I need to squeeze in some time to launder the bedding. There *is* a 24-hour laundromat within walking distance, so it's not impossible. It's just carving out the time to make it possible.

I wonder if I secretly seek out these times, if I stall on things to create crunch times for myself. I've had all week to do laundry, to go to the 24-hour laundromat, and haven't. Hell, I've had all month to wash those two blankets that have been sitting in a laundrybag and the clothes that need to be washed separately from everything else because I used them for picking up fibreglass insulation. I wonder if I subconsciously put off doing these things, letting them pile up until there's too much to do and I'm frantic with chores and tasks and responsibilities.

Well, in between incessantly checking my e-mail, I can at least reply to a letter from my grandmother.

it's 3 in the afternoon.
i think i need to take a bath and then go buy avocados and good chocolate. i've been inspired you could say.
i watched the wonderful 'say anything' today and that lifted my spirits, while waiting for a phone call...which did come. and was worth the wait.
i have a huge migraine today. weather changes. it's cold and grey outside. rainy. i like rain, but i hate migraines.
this is not 300 words

I'm not discussing it. I did my piece elsewhere, and now I'm going to leave it alone.

It's a slow, thoughtful kind of day. I started it out with a good, stress-relieving cry, something that is a real rarity for me, and my brain is just clear. I even got up at a reasonable hour (because I had to take Stephe to the train.) Things are moving.

I suggested to the kidlings that we take the schoolwork and go over to the library after chores, instead of interspersing schoolwork and chores, or dragging schoolwork around here and being chaotic. It was good, very focussed, although I did have some trouble at first getting all three kids in one place to do spelling. It sounds so formal! Doing spelling. We've never done it before.

P was totally self-motivated, doing research on the net. The only thing that kept him from completing all his work is that his sisters finished up well before he did and there just wasn't enough to keep them occupied.

V is frustrated. She was complaining earlier this year about wanting to be able to spell, but the way we're handling it doesn't seem to be the right way for her. We test sixteen words at the beginning of any week, and if you miss anything you study it and it gets added for the next week. The testing she can handle, but the studying! She hates the studying, even though she can run through the study procedures in two minutes for six words.

She's frustrated with math, as well, but I think that's because she has needed more help than she's been getting. I can give P or F a page of math, and they will either do it or come get help, but if V doesn't understand it immediately, she throws a minor fit. She just can't *stand* going through the learning process. She's ridiculously intelligent, and she rarely has to take a lot of time to learn things, so she isn't used to it and she is very insecure about it. That's part of the reason she bailed out of kyu-kido. Every time she earned a belt, it meant she had to start learning a new form, and since she couldn't just memorize a thirty-two move form and whip it off the first time, she got frustrated and tried to give up.

The thing is, once she's gotten far enough into the learning process that she is starting to feel some confidence, she does just fine. Now that she's finally more than halfway to her black belt in judo, she loves judo. But if we'd given her the option of quitting, she would never have made it this far.

I don't know what to do about this. I recognize the feeling -- yeah, been there, done that, still suffer from it. But I've never figured out a solution for myself except to bull on through, and I don't know how to teach her, or help her learn, to do that. I can insist that she keep on with a select few things, but that discipline comes from me, not her; until she learns to deal with this herself, she'll continue avoiding. And I will continue gritting my teeth over stupid stuff that she can learn in a snap if only she'd put some muscle into it.

She's starting skating lessons today. I hope she's willing to hang in there through at least two sessions. At least she already knows how to stand upright on skates, and the goals of the Basic I class are, indeed, very basic.

I got home around 2am on Wednesday...so really it was Thursday. In any case, I'm home. I had the silliest laugh fest with dear Dimi D last night. Like, roll on the floor crying. When it was over he said "that was so worth it, thanks". It was extremely healing, if you will. Upon recollection I believe the source of hilarity was the state of Dimitri's 'tan'. The boy is as red as a lobster.
Dimi went to Burning Man and drove the same time I was driving to Telluride. We got to say stuff like "Shit, man did you catch that weird ass statue on the mountain in Butte?" That one warranted a hi-5. I love hearing Dimi's stories, cause his mind was obviously blown!
Mine has been to. The course of my life, quite possibly, altered forever. But not that many people want to hear about film festivals aside for which celebrities you saw (Peter Bogdonavitch is all over Telluride like a wet blanket) and the big name films you saw (the new Almodovar 'Volver' and 'The Last King of Scotland'). But you can only go on so long about the stuff that really matters (Julia Loktev's beautiful, stunning, stark film 'Day Night Day Night' which WILL be showing in Toronto's Fest and Porimboiu's '12:08 East of Bucharest')...or did I mention seeing a restored print of 'Lonesome' (1928) wil the Alloy Orchestra live?! Well, I did.
I just changed the channel and turned on Olivier Assayas' 'Clean' right at the part where Maggie Cheung looses her kid. Fucking fantastic.
Oh, and on the 21st of September I get inducted into another club which I get to be apart of for the next 12 years or so. Yes, it's meet the teacher night! Jared says "we'll probably be the only kids there".
Which reminds me to mention that Todd Feild's 'Little Children' is nothing short of stupendous. Kate Winslet plays the kind of mama I could actually relate to. The opening scene is high comedy at the playground. And besides that, the film features my darling Jackie Earle Haley! YES YES YES!
I had a chance to speak to Todd after the film, on the street...where no one was mobbing him or paying any mind. I told him the story about having my haircut like Kelly in 'Bad News Bears' and would daydream the day away in 1st grade imagining that Haley would wisk me away on his motorbike. Todd grinned and laughed, and promised to share the story with Haley. But either way I emailed JEH via his production company in Texas and gushed about the film and how happy I was that someone gave him work, cause he deserves it! He wrote back a little over an hour later saying "You just made my day. Big hugs".
I can die happy.
Oh wait, no I can't. Because I already convinced Jared to let me go back and join dog team next year, even though it is a 5 week committment. And every year for ever and ever. So now I have to survive til August all over again.
I'm determined. I've set my mind to it. I won't take no for an answer. Besides the fact that I finally found somewhere I feel like I belong, I made a friend! The incomprable Mr. Diduc, whom alone is worth the year long wait to see again.
"She'll never take no for an answer". (I subjected Dimi D to the critereon release of 'Sid and Nancy' last night). Fuck, I often forget how much I adore Alex Cox even though I never forget that he is one of my favorites. I had all these memories of 8th grade flood back. Walking down the street with Madeleine yelling "Linda! Linda!" and "sex is boring booorrrrinnnggg -none of your free hippy love shite here" and "She thinks we'd spend the money on drugs!" and "What about the farewell drugs?"
Oh to be 13 again.

If I make it through December I'll be alright. I think that's a line in a song somewhere. If I make it through December breathing I'll be alright I think. Craziness craziness is my life at the moment. We are going through a bizarre time of changes. We have to move- temporarily then permanently- as much as permanently can be- but we need a destination to come to at some point. Which we don't have yet. So surreal. On the good side we can reevaluate our lives and decide what we want to do. It's just crazy that we have to do it so fast. We've literally been looking at a map and thinking, 'what about here, or here?' The other good thing is that since I have to clear out the house so quickly I am just tossing out as much unneccesary things as possible. I think I may rent a dumpster and just spend a whole day filling it.
I'm not sure I want to leave ny yet. But husband wants to move somewhere that we can be self sustainable. I guess it will be an adventure. If we had a destination perhaps I would be more excited. That will come I guess. I need to focus on the immediate tasks at hand though. Finding somewhere to move temporarily and getting the house prepared to sell and also and ALSO getting my show in order has to come first. How I am going to organize and install this major show while I am supposed to be gone is going to be a fantastical feat in and of itself. The artist formerly known as... guest starring from out of nowhere, pulling sculptures out of her ass. The show is titled my Fantastic Machines. People will have no idea how fantastic they really are. I don't know how I'm going to swing all this.
So, December. That's my goal. I have to keep tunnel vision and just do it. Then I can perhaps breathe.