Showing posts with label Perfect Storm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Perfect Storm. Show all posts

Friday, April 26, 2019

April 26: More Important Than My Ego, Perfect Storm, Fragmentary Life

A little snapshot of Zaphod Beeblebrox's towering ego:

"Hey," he said, "what you do that for?"

Trillian was tapping her finger on a screenful of figures.

"I've just thought of something," she said.

"Yeah?  Worth interrupting a news bulletin about me for?"

"You hear enough about yourself as it is."  

"I'm very insecure.  We know that."

"Can we drop your ego for a moment?  This is important."

"If there's anything more important than my ego around, I want it caught and shot now."  Zaphod glared at her again, then laughed.

I started this blog post almost three days ago, but I have not had one second to sit down and reflect on life and the world this week.  It had nothing to do with my towering ego (I do sort of understand Zaphod in the above passage).  No, it has just been a perfect storm of events that has kept me away from my laptop.

It is now Friday evening.  I just arrived home from work.  My daughter is on a school trip to compete in the State Solo and Ensemble Festival with her musical theater solo.  My wife and son are over at my mother's house.  I am by myself.  The house house is absolutely silent, except for the wind shaking the windows a little.  And I am sort of enjoying the solitude.

Let me give you a little shakedown of my life these last five days:

  • Monday--home sick from work, taught in the afternoon and evening
  • Tuesday--work all day, a therapy appointment (I'm a mess), and helping my daughter with scholarship applications and essays
  • Wednesday--work all day, teaching, my daughter's final high school chorus concert, and a poetry reading
  • Thursday--work all day, travel to Escanaba, Michigan, for a poetry reading with the wonderful Margaret Noodin (a fellow Poet Laureate of the Upper Peninsula nominee)
  • Friday--work all day
If that doesn't seem like a lot, let me assure you that it was exhausting.  I'm weary in my bones this evening.  On my lunch break at work, I took a 20-minute nap.  And after I'm done writing this blog post, I may just stumble into my bedroom for another short nap.  The festivities of National Poetry Month and  Easter are catching up with me, I think.  Next week is finals week at the university.  Translation:  lots and lots of grading.  Additional translation:  I won't be resting fully for another week-and-a-half.  

That is my life.  It has been my life for over 20 years.  It's fragmentary--me running from one job to another job to teaching to grading to poetry gig to more grading.  In my younger years, I was able to maintain this fairly hectic schedule without getting tired.  Nowadays, I teeter on the brink of a breakdown these last weeks of the semester.

I love teaching.  I love giving and attending poetry readings.  I love my life, for the most part.  The first four months of 2019, however, have been emotionally and physically draining for me, with the loss of a job, search for a new job, start of a new job, daughter moving quickly toward graduation, etc., etc.  The word I would use to describe 2019 thus far is "overwhelming."

Saint Marty needs a drink and a nap this evening.




Friday, December 14, 2018

December 14: Too Much Thunder, Perfect Storm, Close to My Heart

"Um, um, um.  Stop that thunder!  Plenty too much thunder up here.  What's the use of thunder?  Um, um, um.  We don't want thunder; we want rum, give us a glass of rum.  Um, um, um!"

Tashtego commenting on an approaching storm as he lashes up the main-top-sail yard.  (I have no idea what that means, but it seems like it would be difficult to do in the middle of a thunderstorm.)

I know that I've been gone for quite some time.  Four days of grading and teaching and writing and working.  I'm a little exhausted.  Still have a ton of grading to do.  Papers and final exams.  I'm almost at the end.  Tomorrow, a poetry reading in the afternoon.  Playing the pipe organ for Mass in the afternoon.  A graduation party for my niece, nephew, and my nephew's fiancee.  Then, in the evening, a benefit poetry reading that I organized for the local homeless shelter.  Six or seven of my good writer friends and some live music.  In between all of that, grading, grading, grading.  At the end, collapse.

I often wonder how this perfect storm of obligations always seems to happen at the end of a semester.  Everything coming together for one great weekend of celebration, poetry, and stress.  Don't get me wrong.  I'm not complaining.  I love giving poetry readings, and I love raising funds and collecting donations for a cause that's really close to my heart.  If I could cut out the grading, I'd be in really good shape right now.  Can't do that, however.

I have to ride this storm out.  My goal is to have all of my work done by Monday.  I'm not sure if that is realistic.  However, I find that I work better under deadlines.  For example, yesterday morning, I was struggling with the ending of my Christmas essay, and I had to record it for the local public radio station at four in the afternoon.  ( I also had to attend my son's Christmas program and register/assemble and scan records/enter charges for about 16 surgical patients.  Another perfect storm.)  I'll spare you the details, but I can say that I had an essay to record at 4 p.m.  I also recorded an interview about the benefit poetry reading while I was there.

So, you see, my faithful disciples.  I have not forgotten or abandoned my blogging duties.  They have simply taken a back seat for a while.  I have nothing profound to say this evening, aside from a little advice:  make sure, at the end of the semester, that you have plenty of gin in the liquor cabinet.

Saint Marty is thankful this evening for his loving and supportive family.  He wouldn't survive weeks like this without them.