"trampled to death by geese"

Paul used the phrase the other day to describe what our lives feel like; I did some looking around, and the quotation is by Kierkegaard, from a journal entry of musings about death, in which he wonders "which is worse: to be executed or to be slowly trampled to death by geese?" Shoot me now.

It's the little stuff. It's all the detritus, the niggly bits, the chain reaction stuff: to do this means first to do this which means first to do this then to do this.... I got some little bits of flotsam at least chipped at, but more is tangling around my ankles and buzzing around my head. I'd say it's endless, but it does at least pause periodically. Still, the next pause won't be for quite a while. It's that time of semester. Hang on to the safety bar and scream.

I should try to get one more thing done today, but I just can't face anything at all. In addition to everything here at NCC, I also am getting whapped in the face with ASLE business, which I simply do not want to pay attention to right now. I'm wondering if I should resign this year, as I feel utterly useless at it and really have no time for it. I'm particularly cranky about it right now, because today's ASLE e-mails include a rather fierce statement that people really should not propose solo papers for the next conference but should form a panel, or at least a partial panel. I'm still trying to get my fucking abstract pulled together, and it's due tomorrow--and how in the bloody hell am I supposed to put together a panel, even a partial one, and with whom? I wrote an e-mail to the VP in charge of the conference and asked if I should even bother. I hope he answers tonight or tomorrow morning; my intention was to work on the abstract tomorrow, but if there's no point in doing so, God knows I have enough other shit I have to do. I will be pissed off and hurt and upset if I can't submit an abstract--I am feeling increasingly disenfranchised from my own group, god dammit--but on the other hand, I will take the opportunity to come to the office and get some P&B business done.

Fuck. This just hits me squarely in the "I can't be a scholar because I'm so busy trying to teach severely undereducated young people how to begin to think" button. I want to be a scholar. I love being a scholar. I don't remember how to be a scholar. My scholarship is more than a decade out of date by now. But I don't want to be one of those people who throws the students under the bus, because I want just as much to be a good teacher, too, and I care deeply about reaching those students.

And I did reach them, at least a little today. Two students showed up for the discussion session--and were deeply grateful. We had our library research classes today, so most of each period was spent with the students starting to find sources for their final papers (and I just have to note one of the two library instructors was a disaster). Even so, I know I was helping the students, talking with them about what they were finding, and how, and so on. (I also spent some time during the librarians' presentations reading some of Le Guin's blog entries on her website: fierce, touching, laugh-out-loud funny. I'm going back for more.)

Well, hell. All I can do is all I can do. I will trust that whatever happens in terms of proposing a paper for ASLE is for the best. If I'm encouraged to go ahead, I will; if I'm not, I'll focus on the relief--and move my attention to my own book idea (speaking of Le Guin), and the project with Paul.

And now, I'm going to sign off and drag a bunch of papers home to work on this weekend. I'm not sure how far I'll get, but anything is to the good. I will have to do some paper grading over the Thanksgiving weekend, too, which I was madly hoping to avoid (the fucking hurricane ruined that carefully laid plan; the mice and I are in agreement about how agly plans can gang), but the more I can get off my plate before next Thursday, the happier I'll be. (Of course, the real trick is to be happy even when the work is avalanching. I'll see what I can do about that.)