The first day of teaching for me. Lots of the same students from my previous classes, so I must be doing something right, since they keep taking my courses.
I had to wake up bloody early this morning. 6AM. It turns out I was right about my travel estimates--it takes me approximately 45 minutes to get from my doorstep to my parents' doorstep in Bellingham (they're babysitting L.). From there, it takes approx. 15 minutes to get to my office. And then my classes are all on the fourth floor across the quad, so by the time I've hit all the crucial points I need to hit prior to my teaching times, class begins.
Yes, minutiae, but I hate being late for things.
My first class was my prose poem/short-short class. I spent the morning confusing students about genre . . . confusing myself, even.
My next class was my prosody/forms of verse class. The two courses couldn't be more different.
I'm doing a big happy publication dance today.
Ra Ra Riot. Love the skateboarding. Makes me feel nostalgic.
I have never skateboarded in my life, but the very act makes me nostalgic for a past I've never had. What does that say about me?