Choosing to be cheerful

There is much I could complain about, much I could bewail, much I could allow to frustrate or infuriate me ... but today, at least, I choose to sweep all that aside and focus on what's good.

I just created the tally sheets for my classes, so I can more easily add up the numbers when it's time to crunch final grades. Tomorrow, in addition to providing comments on essays for the students who want them (only a few from the 102s, more from the SF class), I'll write in the column headers on the ridiculous paper forms that we still need to keep. (But I'm not complaining about how completely, utterly stupid it is that we have to keep paper grade rosters.) And then I think all I'll have left to do is the actual crunch of grading.

Of course I'd love to do work on my spring syllabi. I'd love to get some pieces in place for the online version of Nature in Lit--and I've taken the step of starting to get the signatures all over again (embarrassing as it is that I have to do that, but I'm giving up on finding either the book or the folders), though I still haven't constructed anything online.

I keep getting distracted by little bits and orts: reminding the 102 students to upload to Turnitin and changing the settings to re-check some of the essays for the SF class (though I think they're fine, as Turnitin sometimes can't seem to tell the difference between quoting and plagiarizing); reprinting the DEE pages for signatures; making a list for myself of those who have and have not uploaded yet... I know that seems a small list, and not in order, but that's what my mind is doing: it's bouncing around, back and forth, nothing seeming to cohere very well.

And I'm oddly OK with that. I have regained the equilibrium that tells me everything that really, truly needs to get done will, in fact, get done--or it will turn out not to really, truly need to get done. And even some of the things that really, truly need to get done will have very little impact on the state of the world if they don't get done.

I am a great deal more tired than makes any kind of sense, however. I don't quite know what to do with myself at this point--I seem to be staring blankly at the computer screen for rather long stretches between sentences--so I'm going to take that as a sign that I should just stop writing and go home. There will be more to say tomorrow, I'm sure, but for now, I think I'll just let silence have the last word.