I was up quite late last night grading midterms yet again. This time, the midterms were for my mythology class. I still haven't finished the grading. I have about seven or eight left. It shouldn't take me that long. Then, of course, I can take a break by doing (you guessed it) some more grading. In some ways this pile-up of work is my fault. I set up the damn syllabi for my classes. I knew what I was doing. But in the pink time of August, when the sun was blazing and the swimming pool was still full, my syllabi seemed brilliantly planned and executed. Not so much in November.
Therefore, I'm surviving on Diet Coke and adrenaline at the moment. Excuse me while I take a sip...Ahhhh. Sweet ambrosia.
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| Didn't happen to bring an essay with you? |
Aside from the grading I still need to complete, I also need to finish up my Christmas essay. I got another paragraph or two written yesterday. That's the way things go for me. A sentence here. A paragraph there. Maybe a page once in a while, if I can carve out an hour or so. I'm surprised that most of what I write doesn't read like radio signals from some distant galaxy. Disjointed. Lots of static. Bursts of coherent thought followed by a lot of alien chatter. Sort of like my blog posts.
I want to thank my disciples for having patience with me, poetry-wise. I've been a little consumed with this essay. I have a deadline for it, you see. I need to get it written so I can record it for the radio station. The time frame for this project is quite compressed. Of course, I've known about the approaching deadline for a while, but, being the patron saint of procrastination, among other bad habits, I just kept up my Scarlett O'Hara act. You know: I'll think about that tomorrow.
Care to join Saint Marty for some mint juleps on the veranda?
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