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Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Like my hair is on fire

I've been feeling frantic and harried and on the edge of panicky all day. Partly I'm freaking about the fact that I'm freaking out: I keep saying, "I used to be able to do all this without getting so woefully behind at every possible turn." I don't know if that's actually true: maybe I've always been this far behind and this frantic and I just have a very selective memory.

I will say that when I met with my promotion mentee on Friday, he and I talked about what it was like going through getting our various degrees--and being on sabbatical--and I felt a huge yearning in my soul for that feeling, especially the feeling I had on this past sabbatical. That experience was exhilarating and challenging and calm and focused and wonderful--and I want that feeling back. I don't yet know how to attain that goal, but it's good to have a sense of what I'm trying to create for myself, apart from further mayhem.

I called in sick yesterday--cancelled class as well as my Advisement time--and spent most of the day marking student assignments. I still didn't get them done. I had to race through about half the assignments for the 5:30 102, and I have almost all of the assignments from Nature in Lit yet to mark. I would love to get those back to the students tomorrow; I'm going to be collecting two days' worth of work (Monday's and tomorrow's), and on Thursday I'm hit with the deluge of 102 essays, so I really need to get my feet as clear as possible.

The funny thing is that on Sunday, I knew I wanted to call in sick the next day but I was telling myself that after this week I have a break anyway. When I realized that I have this week and next before the break, I thought, "Well in that case, fuck it: I'm staying home." I had hoped to get some sleep. Hah. Fat chance.

In addition to my difficulty getting on top of student work, I truly have been falling down on the job in terms of P&B. I haven't read the folders (not even Cathy's--still), and I haven't been responding to the endorsement letters my colleagues have been writing for their mentees, never mind writing the ones I am responsible for.

But here it is almost 9 p.m., I have hit several walls in succession; I still need to make a stop at the grocery store on the way home--and probably "should" get up at 6 (or even earlier) tomorrow to get in and get cracking on those assignments for Nature in Lit.

I really highly doubt I'll be any stronger tomorrow, quite honestly (it's a nice little fiction, Scarlett, but we both know better). But I truly can't think about--never mind do--anything further tonight. My brain is experiencing the intellectual equivalent of running on fumes. I'm outta here.

1 comment:

  1. I am comparably wiped and running on empty while falling asleep over papers. I was so close to breaking into the meeting with the interjection "as Bruce would say, 'I'm WHAT? LEAVING IN JULY!!!!!!' " but didn't want to derail Cathy, who of course knew of my plans. I too am become Scarlett, destroyer of the long day's journey into night. Ave atque vale in advance.

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