paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- another day of rest I am sorry to see the end of the long weekend. But at the same time, ready to take on another week. This week, I am going to have a good week. I discovered that if I focused, I could read my Milton and prepare discussion points for class in 4 hours and two cups of coffee. Double that for the week (class meets twice a week) and this should be a doable endeavor. I am going to get up early and read one hour each morning before work�. Every semester that I have been in graduate school, I have concocted similar plans of chunking my studies into manageable bits � perhaps not unlike dividing telephone numbers or dividing committee work. Sometimes I am incredibly engaged with my graduate work, but this being both my last requirement and my last choice, I am not holding out much hope. But then again, Stanley Fish is a Milton scholar, and his work proves to be an endless stream of fascination and puzzlement for me. So perhaps if one of the founding reader response texts was on Milton, I will be able to find something with which to engage. The work week is only four days, which is a blessing. And my meetings are all under-control. I have only one thing that is making me nervous regarding arranging a tour for students of a neighborhood and hooking them up for some semester-length projects. Unfortunately, the manager hooked up another office in this neighborhood and I am afraid they are experiencing too many university engagements, all of the sudden. So, I think I need to talk with their neighborhood president about how they are feeling about all of this attention after so many years without it. Perhaps we are coming on too strong or not doing what they really need for us to do. To have this conversation, I have to get their neighborhood president to call me back�.. the most rewarding part of my job is also the hardest. My guitar lesson is no longer in the middle of the day on Saturday. This is such a blessing because it frees up Saturdays for knocking around my photographic haunts, taking pictures. And for day trips. I have been dying to go to Omaha and/or Lincoln for a bit of digging around in a few of their renown, colossal junk shops. Whenever I go into these places, I am always looking for things that I have never seen before nor imagined that ever existed. Partially fascinating, partially scary, it is incredibly diverting. When I used to have a vintage clothing shop, I was a bit hooked on sifting through the resale stream of bizarre goods. If nothing else, it makes for fun conversation during the long drive home. Omaha is a small place, but I liked living there. My marriage was problematic, and it was hard to find a job so I ended up working for an agency that booked large product shows as well as various monster trucks. Through this job, I had the incredible opportunity of attending many fine displays of one of the more extreme sides of American culture. And the autographs I collected. I lived in downtown Omaha in an old warehouse directly across from the prison and the bus depot, so I didn�t feel too removed from the edgy, urban stuff to which I had become accustomed . At the same time, in the early mornings, during my walk to work, the world was so still I would shudder and feel a great ghostly sort of presence. This was endlessly stimulating to my gothic imagination. I suspect that I was projecting because things were bad at home� but it felt as though the downtown was haunted by ghosts of the westward expansion. Sometimes I thought I could hear the grinding of the wagon wheels, heading out for the great Platte River Road. Legend in my family has it that my great-great grandparents used to look at each other and say �remember when we were in a wagon heading west?� I have a few more rides to give in my new car. It makes such a difference to have a car, especially living in a city that carries the shame of being second in sprawl. To not have a car is something that people don�t understand and actually was a bit shameful because 1) I never wanted to put anyone out who made the sacrifice to have a car, 2) It was hard for people to imagine that someone with a professional job would not have a car, and 3) people would think I was strange for showing up places weathered � wind blown, sweaty, red-cheeked from the cold. I drove Quinn�s car a lot, and we spent good energy on complicated car maneuvers. Already, our days are becoming simpler. All of these changes are adding up to my looking forward to a pleasant and creative fall. Bracing myself for another week. 12:25 a.m. - 2002-09-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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