as normal as anything

Ah, winter. You bastard.

Classes start up again tomorrow, and because I like to create stress for myself, I have also scheduled two doctor's appointments and other research-related tasks in there as well. Hey. Happy January. I will be back on my beloved TR schedule, however, and I am looking forward to having MWF open for conferences, prep work, and the occasional poem-writing. Last semester I felt like I was scheduled for performances four days a week; now I'm back down to two, which is far less exhausting. Still would appreciate roses in my dressing room, though.

Beginning of the winter semester means new folders, crisp syllabi, new pens, new chances. But it also means that I miss the old classes and their familiar, if occasionally maddening, contexts and routines.

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I am almost a grown-up. I went to the dentist for a cleaning and they said that I have no new cavities, that I have been taking good care of my mouth.

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I ended up putting nearly two thousand miles on my car over the last three weeks. Good thing I'm all up on oil changes*. My Christmas present included fantastic new tires, however, so even when the drive turned to snush, the car sped along. HA HA HA, it said, LOOKIT MY NEW TIRES.

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I am almost a grown-up. I have been researching lines of credit and determining which is the best reward system based on my card usage patterns and credit score. Then, of course, because I am not a real grown-up, I mail all my finding to my father so that he can confirm or reject my decisions.

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My office is really a sunroom, which means it is not exactly well-insulated. I like to have a statue of limitations on the amount of time I can spend in here typing or doing work. When my fingers start to freeze, it's time for more food.


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I have hopes for 2010. They say that how you spend the first days of the new year is what you can expect from it, and I was fortunate enough to spend it watching Law and Order: SVU marathons in a house filled with friends and eating black-eyed peas and talking to Colleen for hours. It felt as normal as anything has in the past eight months.

Here's to walks in the snow that are at least sunny; here's to getting enough sleep; here's to staying on top of workloads and clean teeth; here's to writing some new stuff; here's to New York in a few weeks and the old, old friends I'll see there; here's to new starts.


*this is for my father, who will still most likely read this post and then e-mail me to remind me to get an oil change.