December 8

There must be an evolutionary benefit for procrastination.

1964

I botched up my first lines! Rats! I was to say “What? Urge ye your petitions in the street? Come to the Capitol!” And I said, “What? Urge you your partitions in the Capitol? Come to the Capitol!”. It was the only line I muffed, though. Mr. W thought I was good.

I didn’t go to Wykeham Rise this afternoon. I wish I had. I hate that thing I have to play Thursday - “Peasant Dance” by Bela Bartok. I get the rhythm right and play the notes all wrong. I like slow, serene things better. Besides, I get stage fright. But at least it would be over with.

Comment 2022

Stage fright? Moi? Forever and always. Just last month I had a very small part in a reader’s theater performance of The Skin of Our Teeth, and I lost my place and messed up my lines. It is both sad and amazing that my teenage fantasies about possible careers were all in the performing arts. I longed to be an actress or a singer, or some other kind of musician. Back in fifth grade, I was the understudy for the lead in the annual holiday musical, and ended up on stage when the lead, who was even shyer than me, backed out. It was a triumph. Filled with adrenaline, I acted and sang my heart out. Some random parent came up afterwards and told me “We’ll be hearing more from you in the future”. For years I replayed that moment, imagining that he was a talent scout who would call out the blue and offer me the role that would make me famous.

I don’t know what magic was behind my burst of confidence in 1959, but that was the last time I ever felt that way in front of an audience. “Impossible!”, you cry. Yes, I was a professor for over forty years. Yes, I have given public lectures. Yes, I played fiddle in an Irish band. Yes, I even soloed on “Higher Ground” with my church choir. And every time, ever second of it, I was dissolving into jelly inside.

But it’s fine. I am at peace with my internally quivering self. Soloing is something I rarely attempt, but when I do, I know how to gather myself for the effort. Afterwards, I also know how long I will need to nap.

1978

My first full day back at the Smithsonian; I skimmed a lot, trying to get a sense of the decade. Everything I did this summer seems so far away. Dealing with the data is hard, too. I am trying to get away from sheer description.

Besides this project, I have two more things to do in the next week. (1) final exams in my courses - all four of them (2) finish my thesis proposal. The exams are not really very important. I’ll be glad when the next week is over. And how!

Comment 2023

Yes, I was teaching one course and taking four. Graduate school makes you do crazy things.

2002

At least last weekend was one of those wacky, laid-back weekends. This weekend - - and next weekend - - and the next weekend - - will be busy holiday weekends. Busy and crazy, filled with concerts, parties, rehearsals and other activities. Ah, yes.

In the meantime, I have STUFF to do. I wish I could stay home and get STUFF done, but I can’t. I also must admit that church isn’t doing much for me lately. Wish I didn’t have to go. I enjoy the people, but the service is less than exciting. Not sure why.

2010 (Twitter)

There must be an evolutionary benefit for procrastination.

2022

Dear Reader:

Putting my teenaged past and my writing here on Substack has also been an act of courage. Your comments, reactions, and questions mean a lot.