On another semester's end...
And so a long, long time has passed since my last meaningful update...
There's no real reason for my neglect of this journal. Many times over the past few months, I've found myself slouched in this very chair, before this very computer, consciously trying to post a worthwhile update of my life's goings on. These attempts, however, have been doomed from their onset; all too often, I've started the process only to become deluged by the onerousness of trying to make up for lost time--that is, as a means of playing catch-up, I wish there existed some remedy, a quick method of capturing and concretizing on the page all of the happenings I've managed to ignore. If only. After all, many important events have gone down this semester, and I can't help but harbor a certain guilt for not documenting them. Thus, moving forward strikes me as somewhat out of sync; how can I talk about what's to come without first explaining what's happened? But, as this journal has taught me, when trying to sum up large chunks of the past in a few sparse paragraphs, the payout is rarely fruitful. That being said, saying anything more seems trite, if not entirely pointless. Nonetheless, I suppose I'll say what's on my mind.
This semester, especially its first three quarters, has hurtled by like a bullet train. When I think back to August, or even further, to the summer of solitude, I'm astounded by time's ever-quickening pace. I attribute this in part to my becoming such a clockwork man. Never have I so strictly adhered to a routine. Each day, without fail, I rise early, drink coffee, eat cereal, make a painful attempt at writing, walk to school, drink more coffee, work at the writing center, eat lunch, attend my one class, hold office hours, teach, walk home, run, shower, cook dinner, watch either a televised sporting event or a Netflix movie, and, usually by or before eleven o' clock, go to bed. There are, of course, some minor variations here and there--on Wednesdays and Sundays, for instance, weightlifting replaces running--but that list is an accurate depiction of how I live these days. While having and maintaining a patterned life is by and large a positive way of being, things here in Milledgeville are growing admittedly stale. Thankfully, I need only to push through a few more days of the monotony before I'm afforded a month-long holiday from all schedules, obligations, and responsibilities. Next semester, which, at long last, will see me again enrolled in a creative writing course should also be refreshing--in the end, it'll have to be more stimulating than its immediate predecessor, a term in which my only class dealt extensively in pedagogical theory and the composition of research papers thereof.
My plans for the upcoming holidays are pretty well solidified. This Saturday, after a week of abject boredom and laziness, I'll fly back to San Antonio, the city of my birth and rearing. Upon arrival, my mother and I will attend my uncle Stuart's grand-scale, open-bar fiftieth birthday celebration, which, I assume, will be a) awkward, in that I'll likely be the youngest guest in a list of about two-hundred attendees; b) potentially fun, in that it will involve an open bar and two-hundred people. Following that singular, highbrow event, I'll spend the next three days laying low, enjoying my mother's house and allowing a semester's worth of stress to vaporize. Come Wednesday, 12/17, I'll make a trip to Baton Rouge, a city that, since my graduation from LSU, has become my personal version of Shangri-La. There, like always, I'll participate in some hardcore drinking and generally act a fool. As an added bonus, this trip happens to coincide with Cakes' and Deano's graduations, so there won't be any shortage of fanfare and parties. On the twenty-first, I'll head back home, celebrate the holidays, hang out with old friends, and so on. Once 2009 rolls around, I'll devote the bulk of my days to putting together syllabi for the two classes I'm teaching next semester and tending to any other school-related loose ends that might need tying.
Though this entry has failed to delve into the realm of my thoughts and feelings, something is always better than nothing. As I've said again and again, this journal's greatest value is the opportunity for revisiting my past with which it provides me. In the coming months I'll try to do a better job of keeping you all (and my future self) informed of my situation.
There's no real reason for my neglect of this journal. Many times over the past few months, I've found myself slouched in this very chair, before this very computer, consciously trying to post a worthwhile update of my life's goings on. These attempts, however, have been doomed from their onset; all too often, I've started the process only to become deluged by the onerousness of trying to make up for lost time--that is, as a means of playing catch-up, I wish there existed some remedy, a quick method of capturing and concretizing on the page all of the happenings I've managed to ignore. If only. After all, many important events have gone down this semester, and I can't help but harbor a certain guilt for not documenting them. Thus, moving forward strikes me as somewhat out of sync; how can I talk about what's to come without first explaining what's happened? But, as this journal has taught me, when trying to sum up large chunks of the past in a few sparse paragraphs, the payout is rarely fruitful. That being said, saying anything more seems trite, if not entirely pointless. Nonetheless, I suppose I'll say what's on my mind.
This semester, especially its first three quarters, has hurtled by like a bullet train. When I think back to August, or even further, to the summer of solitude, I'm astounded by time's ever-quickening pace. I attribute this in part to my becoming such a clockwork man. Never have I so strictly adhered to a routine. Each day, without fail, I rise early, drink coffee, eat cereal, make a painful attempt at writing, walk to school, drink more coffee, work at the writing center, eat lunch, attend my one class, hold office hours, teach, walk home, run, shower, cook dinner, watch either a televised sporting event or a Netflix movie, and, usually by or before eleven o' clock, go to bed. There are, of course, some minor variations here and there--on Wednesdays and Sundays, for instance, weightlifting replaces running--but that list is an accurate depiction of how I live these days. While having and maintaining a patterned life is by and large a positive way of being, things here in Milledgeville are growing admittedly stale. Thankfully, I need only to push through a few more days of the monotony before I'm afforded a month-long holiday from all schedules, obligations, and responsibilities. Next semester, which, at long last, will see me again enrolled in a creative writing course should also be refreshing--in the end, it'll have to be more stimulating than its immediate predecessor, a term in which my only class dealt extensively in pedagogical theory and the composition of research papers thereof.
My plans for the upcoming holidays are pretty well solidified. This Saturday, after a week of abject boredom and laziness, I'll fly back to San Antonio, the city of my birth and rearing. Upon arrival, my mother and I will attend my uncle Stuart's grand-scale, open-bar fiftieth birthday celebration, which, I assume, will be a) awkward, in that I'll likely be the youngest guest in a list of about two-hundred attendees; b) potentially fun, in that it will involve an open bar and two-hundred people. Following that singular, highbrow event, I'll spend the next three days laying low, enjoying my mother's house and allowing a semester's worth of stress to vaporize. Come Wednesday, 12/17, I'll make a trip to Baton Rouge, a city that, since my graduation from LSU, has become my personal version of Shangri-La. There, like always, I'll participate in some hardcore drinking and generally act a fool. As an added bonus, this trip happens to coincide with Cakes' and Deano's graduations, so there won't be any shortage of fanfare and parties. On the twenty-first, I'll head back home, celebrate the holidays, hang out with old friends, and so on. Once 2009 rolls around, I'll devote the bulk of my days to putting together syllabi for the two classes I'm teaching next semester and tending to any other school-related loose ends that might need tying.
Though this entry has failed to delve into the realm of my thoughts and feelings, something is always better than nothing. As I've said again and again, this journal's greatest value is the opportunity for revisiting my past with which it provides me. In the coming months I'll try to do a better job of keeping you all (and my future self) informed of my situation.