Enough file folders for several life-times

I just cleaned out one file drawer, saved about 10 pieces of paper and about 150 file folders. That's on top of the collection I already had on my desk. I can't quite bring myself to toss them ... yet. I hope I get more ferocious about purging the unwanted/unneeded as I start to seriously contemplate having to load stuff into my car to schlep home to put on a moving van.

I also was set to shred all the old P&B files I've accumulated over the, what, decades that I was on the committee? but then I thought there might be something in there of archival value. But I sure as shit wasn't going to go through it myself to figure out what might be worth saving and what might not. However, I got to that point while P&B was, in fact, meeting, so I trotted downstairs, poked my head in, and asked if anyone wanted to take a quick look for any possible pearls before it all gets shredded. Paul volunteered, but I just told him (and Paul, if you're reading this, remember I said it) that if he looks at the box full of paper for a while and thinks, "Fuck this; I don't have time," he can simply shove it back in my direction and I'll have a grand old time downstairs in the main office, filling up the shredder.

And speaking of P&B, apparently, no one has a 4:00 class any more, so those meetings can get a bit interminable. Another reason to be glad I'm off.

I did a bit of that today with some files from home, too. I'm sure I've mentioned, but I have a little shredder in the apartment, but I have so many files that I no longer need (paper? Who needs that?), that little machine would just take 40 years to chew it all up. The one downstairs? More like 40 minutes, probably--depending on how many files I bring in at once.

So, that's been my fun and frolic in the office since my stint in the WC finished. While I was in the WC, I met with one student who was working on a scholarship application essay. Her writing was pretty terrible in a lot of ways (though I've certainly seen a lot worse), but she has a learning disability--and her academic and life ambitions are wonderful. She actually wants to develop her intellect. That's a wonderful, and sadly somewhat rare, attitude to encounter here.

Apart from that, I was working on my own writing--and yes, advance warning: when this semester is over, this blog will become defunct; instead, I will (with help) develop a website for myself as a writer--even if I never publish a damned thing again. That will certainly include a blog component, but other items as well--I think. In any event, since this blog is functioning as a sort of hybrid right now, partly me wearing my professorial hat, partly me nattering about my writing process, I will report that one of the delicious frustrations I encounter is suddenly having a question that requires some research. Sometimes the research is pretty easy (though even when it is, I get rather fascinated and follow more rabbit trails of information than are strictly necessary to answer the question); other times it is remarkably frustrating. For example, yes: a woman in the 1880s would very likely have had a "reticule"--which I'm hoping I can get away with calling a "hand bag." But the answer to the question, "Where were the middle-class neighborhoods in Manhattan in the 1880s?" remains unanswered. I finally located a site that may help--but if it doesn't, I'm going to need to go deeper into the searching process than I've been able to so far. (And our campus library has absolutely no books that might help. I haven't tried the databases yet, largely because it didn't occur to me until just this second that that might be a place to look, but also because I completely suck at coming up with the right search terms to find the information I want.)

But the writing still proceeds, even with the discursions into research thickets. I'm rather surprised, actually. I originally thought, "Oh, I won't feel like I have the brain space and time to concentrate that I'll need," but it turns out, at this stage anyway, I don't need all that much. When I get to the really hard part--turning the shit first draft into something that really works--I'm sure I'll need a lot more mental oxygen and stamina, but now, I can just let stuff blob out of my mind into the computer files and roll along.

Tomorrow is my "off" day, of course, but it will be a productive day nonetheless. I will meet with the assistant exhibitions manager of the NYPL to see whether I can help them with their editorial needs. After that meeting, I will return to fiddle lessons after a very long hiatus. My poor instructor will have to teach me how to use the bow properly all over again; I never really got it very well, so there was no good muscle memory to call back to mind. And then, depending on how perky I feel, I may stay long enough to go to a dance class. That last is pretty unlikely, as the class doesn't start until 8, and I will be feeling the gravitational pull of home and quiet long before then, I'm sure. If I leave the City before 8, however, I have to pay a "step up" to peak fare on my off-peak ticket--which is hardly the end of the world, but still.

That's all tomorrow, though. Sufficient unto today is the whatever that has occurred. I'm going to noodle a bit longer, then wend my way homeward. I would like to note before I go, however, that I am truly appreciating the fact that the sun has not yet set. Longer days are good for my spirits.