June 2
My life's work: getting organized
1978
A day that promises to be miserable and hot.
1981
It seems my life since returning to school has been one long struggle to (1) get organized and (2) stay organized. Getting organized is an activity, a hobby in itself. When I am really working at avoiding work I make lists and plans. Execution is difficult. For the last 18 hours I had a very satisfying plan.
I have decided how much time I wish to spend (approx) per day on each activity. There’s garden, self, physical exercise, “work”, research, and housework. Then I make up my daily schedule, trying not to shortchange anything. My priorities are interesting.
I suppose they ought to be:
Research
“work”
housework
exercise
self
garden
But the way I would arrange my day if I didn’t think about it is:
Garden - real joy, also imperative
“work” - external deadlines and can be done in little bits
exercise - for that self-satisfied glow
self - usually unplanned, less than satisfying
housework - the squeaky wheel
research - always on my mind, but an afterthought
Now where I would like them to be is:
Research
Garden
“work”
Housework
Physical Exercise
With “self” in every activity. If I could do my activities in a way that would satisfy and recreate me, I would enjoy my work more and need less structured play. So far today has been good. Tuesdays and Thursdays end up being weird days, because of class. I’ve planned a nap every T and Th (necessary for the evening stretch). Time for a nap right now, I think. Sleepy bear.
1985
Well, in fact it was a pleasant break. Not entirely relaxing, since busy vacations so seldom are. But definitely a change of pace, a good time to get better acquainted with Jim and Kiddo. We spent money, indeed, but had a really good week touristing about.
My mind thus cleansed, I was ripe for insight when it hit. To whit:
I am very well organized.
In fact, I have no problem with organization. My problem is that I have no goals other than to be organized.
So what are my goals?
Book? Tenure? House? Baby? Trim thighs? (Hah)
2002
A sunny, warm day, not as hot and humid as yesterday, but definitely summery. I did a bit of gardening yesterday; set out a tomato plant and some basil, and cleared one of the side beds. I will just mulch it this year, hopefully do some planting next spring. It is a struggle not to check my email. There is NO reason to be checking 4-5 times a day this time of year. Yet all the time I was working out I felt the nagging urge to log on as soon as I was done.
IT CAN WAIT!
2003
The more I think about the idea of being the Center for Teaching Excellence director, the more I know this is not what I want. I like my life the way it is right now. What an amazing thing to be able to say! The only thing I would like to do more is write and other creative work, and I am about to embark on that course. I am healthy, loved, and feeling productive; what more is there? What more could there be? I still have goals, but they don’t worry me, most of the time. Life is good, indeed!
2016
Slow start today after an exhausting day with the MLK middle schoolers. It was great fun, but wow, did that sap my energy! Especially the sixth graders. All energy and no filters, no self-control. They were like a roomful of wriggly, panting puppies.
I am trying hard to instill new, better habits (again) as the summer and my leave unfold. I must touch base with M about the internships, perhaps make a date for after the 10th.
I am filled with short writing ideas: blog posts, short stories, poems, tweets even. But I do have one deadline: the Vestoj article about blue for boys. I have thoughts buzzing around my head about that, too. I worry about copying and pasting too much of my previous work, not being “fresh. Recycle my old ideas and words, or say something new? I want to say something new, but that’s scary. I was going to say it was “a challenge”, but that was cowardly. When you say something is a challenge, you can imagine yourself flexing your muscles and assessing the task ahead with a cool eye. But admitting it’s “scary”, that’s you afraid to look under the bed. That’s me running up the basement steps two at a time so the monster doesn’t grab my ankles through the spaces. That’s the long seconds before stepping off the highest platform at the pool.
That’s how I feel about writing sometimes. When I begin, especially. I can gather, organize, and outline like a boss. But putting the first words on a page or screen, that’s hard. I know by now that once I start, it’s less scary, that I can work past the alligator-infested barriers. Now I am being melodramatic. I don’t know what I am afraid of. Criticism? Been there, done that, it’s not so bad. Rejection? Water off a duck’s back. My dress code article was rejected a month or so ago and my reaction was a shrug. Relief.Once I submitted it, I was done with it. I don’t need a longer CV. I am retiring in a year, and I am free to write what I want, not what I am “supposed” to.There is no more “supposed to”, and that is a complete relief. I don’t imagine I will miss it at all. I will miss teaching (but not grading).
I will miss being relevant at professional meetings. I saw some of that at CSA. The older retired members are feeling like their experiences and opinions don’t matter. Some don’t see it. They can’t tell when it matters and when it doesn’t. I am not sure how much of the story of my department’s demise is relevant 23 years later, either.
It just occurred to me that my wastebasket and my paper recycling bin might be on the wrong side of my chair. The next time I need to toss an envelope or a tissue I need to pay attention. I miss my kids; it’s been too long. Kiddo 2 and some friends came to Franklin’s and that was great. But I haven’t seen Kiddo 1 since Grandkiddo’s nursery school music program. I miss my brother and his family I miss Cousin B! I miss Connie and Jack. Time to dust off those connections and make them shine.
Time for less Candy Crush.
Comment 2023
OOH! Whatever happened to that dress code article? It was pretty good, despite being rejected. (Pearls before swine.)
2023
Writer’s lament (a poem)
Apparently, this book is nearly done.
Just collect the pieces and kintsugi* them together
Index cards
Scribbles on an old concert program
First drafts
A great turn of phrase from my 1987 diary
Second drafts
Third drafts
Like a drawer full of unmatched socks.
Like a wall of tattered sticky notes
Just paste them together
And this book is done.
This book is not close to being done.
*Kintsugi is the process of repairing ceramics traditionally with lacquer and gold, leaving a gold seam where the cracks were. The technique consists in joining fragments and giving them a new, more refined aspect.
This book is not close to being done.
2024
Perhaps a little closer this year.
I’ve done the 1981 exercise many times... always falls apart after a few days....😅