1966
I’m writing this on the 3rd, because I was too tired to write last night. Sr. Cervantes took me to the bank and later taught me the alphabet. He said my pronunciation was very good.
Then we went shopping at a big discount house. I got a record for Bob which has a lot of songs (English and American) in Spanish.
And then Pati took me to Chapultepec with Panchita and Rosalia, two amigas. It was fun! First we went on some swings. Then we went on The Hammer, which is like this:
Then, I went on the Dodgem’s and I rode with a boy named Felipe.
Then we went to go on another ride and were waiting for one of the boys to buy tickets when two guys came up and tried to talk to us. It was o.k. until Panchita told them I was American.
They asked me my name, and it went like this:
Me: Jo
Him: Yo?
Me: no, Jo!
Him: Si, tu!
Me: Jo - jota o - Jo
Him: oh, Ho!
We went on the something of love, which was like the Hammer but not as “feo” (ugly). From there we went on the Octopus, and then to the Montana Russia, a roller coaster. It was pretty good, but very short. Then we went to the Haunted House and were just about to go in when it started to POUR BUCKETS. We stood near the house for a while, then made a dash for the nearest roof. We rested and then ran again. Finally we made it to the street, but there were no buses. Then 3 young men offered to take us home. Pati said just to the bus stop but they insisted. Rosalia, the little pickup, got friendly with one by sitting 2 in a bucket seat.
Finally we got home. I ate supper and went back to my house, washed and set my hair, and went to bed.
1978
It's a rainy, temperate Sunday. Very lazy. I'm thankful that it is raining, because it means no fireworks. The sweet neighborhood tykes have be exploding fire crackers and cherry bombs since Friday, and the Fourth is still two days away. My main objection is that it really frightens Marley and she barks. It also frightens me.
But enough of this dreariness… I have things to do. They are things I want to do (or at least wanted to do) that have, by some mysterious process, become things I have to do. There is nothing I want to do right now! What an odd admission! I would like to go shopping (or be shopping…don't want to drive) parenthesis and I would like to read the book that was reviewed in the paper today. (But I don't have it) I would like to play the violin (but I don't know how). I would like to braid my hair (but it isn’t long enough). I would like to redecorate (but can't afford it). I would like very much to lie on the bed and meditate but I would probably fall asleep. I would like to go somewhere that is dry and cool. But besides shopping centers, there are no such places around here!
How could Balzac survive in suburbia? He couldn't, he would go elsewhere and write about something else. Perhaps Los Angeles, or Chicago. Or New Orleans.
Also want to read Storyville, that “Pretty Baby” was based on… zery interesting film. Brooke Shields is not a very good actress. Good for 12, I suppose.
So ends another volume of my life. It is improving, but the daily experience hasn’t gotten any more exotic No Anais Nin yet.
1982
So far, so good. The data problem doesn't seem so bad. I'm finding information, after all. Maybe it's not content analyzable, but we'll see. The evening trips to the library are actually working out well. It's nice to feel separate from her now and then, and Jim gets to spend some time with her. It's so easy to hog her to myself and I mustn't do that.
1983
We've just returned from our first real (not visiting) vacation since Kiddo was born. We all went to Canaan Valley, in West Virginia, for five nights. It is a beautiful area – – high up in a mountain valley with deer all around. We did some touristy things – – saw a cavern, rode a steam train, went on a chair lift to the top of the mountain. We also did some hiking and swimming and a little lying around. (Not as much as I'd like…) Kiddo is really active these days just like the book on one year old said. It's really remarkable, the change that’s taken place in her in just the last six weeks. Hawaii with her would have been a disaster.
So now we're home with a three day weekend still to go. Time to get somewhat back in the planning mode, if we are to have a nice weekend.
1984
It's been humid and stormy the past few days. Pretty much takes the starch out, I'll tell you. Kiddo is suddenly out of her crib and practically putting herself to bed. Oslo is three weeks away. I think about another child again, without knowing or caring where we would even put it in this little house. I am pretty satisfied with my work right now. It would be swell to get more done, but I would probably never be satisfied, anyway. The only big casualty is the book. The book. The book I am and yet am not writing. Well, off to the library halfheartedly. It is after 8 PM and I am tired.
1995
The trip to Sweden is over :( and the summer once again stretches before me. Well, not the whole summer. Jus six weeks. Once more I make promises, once more I worry that they are just so much vapor. Next week my main task is THE BOOK. What is the barrier? Well, mostly the usual. I’m out of touch with it, I want it to be perfect, it isn’t perfect, etc. The following week #1 task is the graduate course. After that week it is AMST 212. Then comes Cycle Across Maryland. Then the tasks multiply; new student orientation, new research, ditzy stuff.
I went to church today. One of the lay ministers did a sermon on fear. Some stuff good, some not, but essentially invigorating. I know that would get more done if I spent less recreational time on the computer. Yes, yes! I have been naughty! So I will try to be better.
1997
Today I got somewhat more done - - actually quite a lot, now that I think of it. I installed the printer, played around with it a little, sorted out most of my work in the office, cooked a fabulous dinner (if I do say so myself!), did 40 minutes of aerobics, wrote a letter to Kiddo 2 at camp, called Connie, and a few other things.
Today we’ll watch a movie and chill out. Right now I think I will mosey to the mailbox and mail the letter to Kiddo. Hope he is having fun at Goshen.
2006
I have been teaching at Maryland for 30 years. I have been teaching somewhere for 31 1/2 years. It is incredible. I do still love some parts of teaching, but some are horrible, and worse every year.
I detest grading
I really do not enjoy either reading or writing as much as I used to
I prefer speaking, discussing or designing a course
I need a sabbatical. Real bad.
2023
I may have sorta committed myself to teaching a noncredit course to other seniors this fall.
2024
I’m writing this on the 3rd, because I was too tired to write this all day yesterday. Thanks, COVID.
Something like the history of the “simple life” in America.
as a non-credit course...does that mean you don't have to grade the students?