Wednesday, November 17, 2004
 

Long Day's Journey into Night

I am SO teaching that play next semester, now that it's in the new edition of the drama anthology. And I'm going to drop The Importance of Friggin Being Friggin Earnest, which I hate and only taught because I thought the students would like it. I was selfishly debating dropping it, anyway, because I can't tolerate it, but my "Rule of Worst Papers" has earned it the boot: whatever work produces uniformly bad papers gets jilted. And the Earnest papers are uniformly bad. So Wilde out, O'Neill in. Whoohoo! And there was much rejoicing.

I had student conferences today, hence the long day of the title. It was one of those days where you only get out of bed on the promise that you're going to go back to sleep as soon as humanly possible. I got up and went back to bed, got up late, took no shower, threw on the first clothes on the floor (jeans and sneakers, how very teacher-like and professional), and hauled in late to my first conference. Things dragged on from there. My most verbose student-- never, ever, ever seems to stop talking-- was in conference for forty-five minutes. I had a break in between him and the next person, so I couldn't even kick him out. He went on and on about everything and nothing, polishing it all off by showing me a picture of his girlfriend (note: not that attractive). No idea why.

And I came home, and I went directly to bed. And slept for many hours. Solidly.

Don't know why I'm so tired. Still migraine hangover, after two days in a row of pain? Which, after this summer, unnerved me so badly that I took my temperature many times, fearing meningitis. Not like I felt like I had a fever or anything; I was just in enough pain to be scared, and I don't always think too clearly when the migraine is bad.

Or maybe it's all the pills I'm taking, migraine medicine plus Benadryl on top of my other two allergy medications. It's November; what am I so allergic to? I sure have been one huge walking wad of histamines lately, though.

I am so, so ready for Thanksgiving break. I need time away from this. Perhaps spent sleeping. Oh, except for that whole seminar paper thing. I want to stand on my desk and yell to my students, "You think that you've got it rough? Lemme tell you, I was an undergrad too, and this is sooooo much worse . . . " but of course I don't, because that would be rude, unfair, and condescending. But I do feel like it sometimes.

At least we're still watching a film tomorrow, Madame Butterfly. Opera in a drama class? Supposedly an English course? Sure, why not? Variety, spice of life, all that.

I still have four conferences tomorrow, plus I promised to meet with a student before class and read his grad school statement of purpose (I'll have to try not to yell "RUN! RUN NOW! DON'T SEND IN THE APPLICATION!, which won't be easy). Plus I need to meet with a professor about my own work. Plus two and a half hours' worth of early film screening starting at 4:00. Oh, and I was supposed to call and reschedule a doctor's appointment that's already been put off twice (his problem, not mine), and I still haven't called. He'll be annoyed with me.

At least I finally called and made a haircut appointment, since I can't see out from under my bangs anymore. My hairstylist is more affirming than my doctor, anyway. And, come to think of it, I pay him more (doc is free for me), so perhaps that's why.

I'm trying to finish marking the last paper. I . . . don't . . . want . . . to . . .

I can't do this for the rest of my life. But nor can I make decisions like that tonight, I keep telling myself, and no matter what's up with the rest of my life, I have to grade this paper.

That's my version of a pep talk.

Cheerio.

Elvisette philosophized at 11:33 PM