This morning, or now
afternoon, I’m strangely inspired and motivated in being an adjunct. Yesterday at the winery while on a break I read some of those “horror stories”, and one the narrator mentions how we was poorer than usual, later elaborating that in being an adjunct he was used to poverty. And I’m not sure what my inspiration consists of, to be truthful. Not sure if it’s that I want to take the shit they’ve given me all these years and re-tweak it into a business and career, or if it’s a desire to travel and leave all the adjunctism behind, or to one day walk up and down these halls and all around campus a known writer and traveling lecturer, speaker, but still keeping a class just from a love to teach, not that I need it. Again, have no idea what I’m feeling today. But part of it is exhaustion from another tough night with poor sick little Kerouac. So on top of all my drives and where the universe pushes and pulls me, I’m dad’d.
For graduation to happen, I need to be basically be ‘there’, have IT, by the end of Week 8, I figure. That is, more content, be invited to speak and lecture somewhere, or some somewhere’s… and on the story is amplified.
May only keep students an hour, so I can work more on this. End of Week 2, and just starting to submerge in respective texts. Taking notes on all surroundings, all tangibles.. other teachers talking in mail room about how semester’s going so far, seems to be an exhaustion transaction, like it’s a conversation they expect to have at some point with another teacher and they they are having with each other but they don’t want to. So I, the tireless writer, just hang back here in the conference room, at the top of the ’T’ made by two tables, and observe, pocket and capture and trap their acting.