On priorities.

I like to pay a visit when I can.

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on Feb 11, 2017 at 2:33pm PST

Since we last spoke, America, things have been tumultuous, I don't think there's any other possible word. I would cite the list of public things that have come down in the form of tweets and executive orders--not issued by me in either case. It's a bummer of a list, no two ways about it. So I'm not going to list it. It's my privilege as an author. The author of this blog post. Back to the tumult, in the form of the not-listed list: every day, more headlines, hardly any of them good. How many alerts for immediate urgent action have I signed up for? A lot. A lot of alerts and alarms coming my way. I wake up in the morning, open my eyes while my head is still on the pillow, and wonder: is it real? Did that actually happen? When I ascertain that it is real, that it did actually happen, I sigh, get up, check my phone for the first alerts.

This is no way to live, America. I have friends who have noted that they are taking social media fasts for their own sanity. I think we both know that a social media fast--and, not coincidentally, care of my own sanity--are not in my repertoire. So I make my calls, send my online faxes, email, etc. Donate a probably undisciplined amount of money to estimable organizations. Engage in an unhealthy amount of rage chatter.

Of course I teach my classes and go to meetings and fill out paperwork and read books, some of which are excellent and some of which do their jobs and some of which are books about activism (some of which are excellent and some of which do their jobs, and some of which are/do both). I have a massive to do list, and I cross things off of it regularly. This week, I went to a conference of creative writers. I ate a rice bowl and tacos and wore blazers. I bought a billion books.

A couple of weeks ago, my dad found out there was a tumor in his brain, necessitating brain surgery. My family came together--my brother flying in from Oregon, my sisters and I spending nights before the surgery at the house to help my mother and dad. Aside from the conference, I've been down to the hospital in the next county every day, I think, watching my dad as he puts forth the effort of a superhero in his various therapies, to strengthen the weak side that's the result of the events in his brain. Watching my mother, her tender, attentive presence. Their strength, the two of them. Being with my beloved siblings as we try, in our various ways, to be of aid.

Analogies fail, but of course they present themselves: a really scary journey. A marathon, not a sprint. A radical reordering of what seems important. A surrendering.

I love America, I loathe so many of its leaders right now, I am trying to come to terms with the true character of my country, which goes in and out of focus, its sun covered by clouds, its blue skies occluded by particulates. Its beautiful idea seeming, at least sometimes, so faint. I love my father and my mother and my family. I want nothing to fail them, I want not to fail them myself. America, forgive me if I forget to call upon occasion. I have not forgotten you. I'm just responding to what cannot help but be a more urgent alert.

At the movies.

I spy my friend KS in the cconcessions line. We greet, she introduces me to her friend, I re-introduce her to the historian. We are going to see the same movie.

KS: Did you go see [eminent poet, who gave a reading this past week. On a weeknight.]

Me: I didn't.

KS: Oh!

Me: (interrupting--I don't want her to be embarrassed because she asked me this question:) I've heard [Eminent Poet] read before.

KS: ...and if you've heard him once, you don't need to hear him

Me: (interrupting again...this might be a bad habit. Look into it..) No! I love [Eminent Poet]! I love his work, and he's a great reader. But I'm not going to give up ... [shall I admit this? --forging ahead:] my television shows to go ...

KS: [laughs] Right. And you have to watch them when they're on.

Me: That's right. I'm old like that. I want to watch them when they're on.

KS: ...right--

Me: It's like it's my reward for getting through the day. Poetry almost never does that for me.

[by now at least two people in the line have looked at me with what I imagine are disapproving glances.]

Me:  ...and I'm a poet. [pause] It's not good.

PowerPoint get thee hence.

Today was the first day back at school, even though students don't come till tomorrow.

Tomorrow!

I will pause so that you may reflect.

I have thought all summer long about how I would manage my time once I got back in school. How I would find time to exercise a little more. Write. How I would find it in myself to say no to things that aren't really my job and that I don't need to do.

I've let a bunch of things go. I'm not the president of anything. I am no longer the faculty advisor of Folio. I have a course reassigned time this semester, although it's for preparing the lecture I am going to give in the spring. And I am not a faculty senator anymore. There are so many things that I am not doing. I should be able to focus my energies, I really should.


This morning I woke up with this thought: I don't want that one slide in the presentation. That's the presentation a colleague and I made today in the Provost's meeting. The reason we were making a presentation is that she and I had planned a retreat, sponsored by the Provost, in the summer, for the faculty senators and academic administrators and student services administrators. We were telling the faculty et al what had happened at that retreat, what strategic plans we had made, and how they should get involved.

This is a perfect example of what I feel I should not do: get so excited about an idea that I talk non-stop about it to everyone who will listen, then end up planning a retreat about the exciting idea, then make a presentation about the retreat, and wake up the morning of with a dubious slide on my mind. Literally, the people: PowerPoint was my first thought upon waking.

Also, incidentally: two nights in a row, not enough sleep.

So off I go to sleep now. I have another video to make tomorrow, a bunch of discussion prompts to post, readings to post, all manner of LMSery to sort out. And a meeting with a student. But I am going to take the dog for a walk before I go to school, as God is my witness. I feel that this, cooking dinners most nights, and keeping the beginnings and ends of weeks mostly meeting-free, so that I can actually give my online teaching my sustained attention--somehow, I think I will do better if I can just hold on to these things. And also write.

Realistic.

I planned, this week, the week of finals, to be in my office on several successive days, to allow for drop-ins (drive-bys?) from students with questions or last minute thises and thats, to do some grading, to write some documents, and probably to deck the halls with boughs of holly falalalalalalalala, etc. A sensible person would have had a more focused, a narrower, a more realistic agenda. Also, a sensible person would not have set a final due date of tomorrow for stuff to come in. (Note to self: must be more sensible about due dates!) Needless to say, this is more of what happened:

On Monday, I arrive. I plug in. I take a sip of a warm beverage. I contemplate my list. Then, Unexpected Person Number One drops by to say, "Hey! remember when you gave me that incomplete exactly one year ago? Whaddya know, I finished my stuff! It's on my e-portfolio! Have you read it yet? When do you think you'll be able to turn in my grade?" I tell him I will definitely read his work, give him the grade he has earned, definitely by the deadline.

I sip my beverage. I open an e-mail. I sort through what I have and don't have from my students. I send a few e-mails of the "When might I expect this item from you, this item that was due yesterday?" variety. Then, Unexpected Person Number Two drops by to say, "I have a disaster, and you are my faculty leader. Fix it." I tell this person I will fix it, I surely will. I assure this person I will write a strongly worded e-mail, I will make a phone call, I will raise holy hell. I take a gulp of the beverage, and look at my list, and revise my expectations downward.

Etcetera.

It is the end of Wednesday, I have not written any documents, I still have stuff to sort through and numbers to plug in on my grading grid. This week thus far, I have not, in fact, graded one thing whatsoever. Also, I have Christmas presents to buy for the grandchildren! And, for that matter, a Christmas tree. And I need butter. So here is my new plan:

1. Grade things. Everything, in fact.

2. Buy a Christmas tree.

3. Buy some butter.

4. Bake like a madwoman, after the grading is done.

I hope you'll notice that "grade things" was the number one item on my agenda. That means I gots priorities.

Soon.

Soon there will be grading a-plenty, and after that or maybe before, a Christmas tree and lights, and baking and gift-buying and birthdays, at least at my house, and festivities galore. GALORE.

But before that, I am trying to do a little writing. This afternoon, I went down to the Roasting Co. for a few hours and took out my second manuscript, the one that I worked on during my sabbatical, and tried to do a little assessment and revision. The last time I did this was one month ago, I happen to know, because one month ago was the date on the notes and drafts I looked at then.

I have to say, it felt good. It took a minute, though, to get in gear. First I had to locate everything, both hard and digital copies. Then, I had to note which drafts were pretty far along, and therefore closer to finished, and which ones weren't really drafts at all. Then, I had to assess my resources--my inner resources--to see which project I was capable of addressing.

I got there when it was still light--at 2 in the afternoon. I had to sit tucked away in back because there were no window seats, but that was okay--less traffic. When I left, it was dark, but I had a draft that was significantly closer to being finished(-ish) than when I arrived. I believe I will do the same tomorrow, and hope that it takes a little less time from arrival to sinking in. I have three fat piles of notes that aren't drafts yet, and I think I will try to get one of those into a draft(-ish).

Perhaps tomorrow, I will also grade. But I believe that before I grade, I will write.

The summer, whoa.

Well, the summer is just about done for, and with it all spontaneity and joy. Am I wrong? The people, am I wrong?

Okay, possibly exaggerating. I am probably going to take up a side career as a professional whiner-for-hire--if you need any whinging done, you know who to call! I am, as usual, flagellating myself for all the things I did not do that I meant to do, planned to do, might still do in the 32 hours I have left before the Official School Meetings begin.

What to do in the meanwhile? spend quality time with my laptop and produce a meaningful syllabus update? prepare a core list of classical rhetorical devices, and while I'm at it, a key to useful editorial markings? write a manifesto? rearrange my books and give my belongings to the poor? bake a cake? reacquaint myself with my abdominal muscles? draft documents for various and sundry? edit two little videos? add more to my new video project "seethe"?

Or what.

Rather than prioritize this list, I believe I will finish an intermittently interesting novel set in Rome, with police and carabinieri and whatnot. And also take Bruiser for a late night walk. And possibly eat one more cookie.

The end.

Things I like about my job (January edition).

1. Two weeks into the new semester I am still mostly caught up.
2. There are only two semesters in the year.
3. The second week means only about seven weeks till spring break and maybe just twelve or thirteen until it's all over.


4. And the students. Of course. Gosh! The students.