I am sitting in my office at the university. My windowless office. At 6 p.m., I have a meeting with the grad students who will be poetry editors for the literary magazine this year. It is my first official appearance as poetry editor, and I'm hoping the poets will be on board with the direction I want to go this year. I have no idea who the poets are. I don't know if they will like me or think I'm unqualified for the position. It's either going to be great, or it's going to really suck.
I must say that I'm not a big fan of my new office. It has that new office smell. Sort of like new car/new furniture/new carpeting. I think it's a combination of paint and rug glue. I am no longer in the quietest corner of campus. I'm sort of in the thick of things. Smack dab in the middle of the English Department. There are always people in the hallways, conversing, holding forth, socializing. It's not my thing. I much prefer a ninja approach to office time. Get in as quietly as possible. Do your time. Slip out without anybody noticing.
But I can't go back to my old office. All species of the English Department are to be housed in the same zoo now. If I want a view, I have to walk across two hallways to see the ass-end of campus. No private reveries sitting at my desk any more. No watching the sun set as I blog.
I am trying not to be maudlin here. I don't think I'm succeeding. So, I guess I'll just ask my Web dip question for this week:
Am I going to be a successful poetry editor of the magazine?
And the answer from the great book of Charlotte is:
"You're terrific as far as I'm concerned," replied Charlotte sweetly, "and that's what counts. You're my best friend, and I think you're sensational. Now stop arguing and go get some sleep!"
Well, I'm going to be terrific, according to a little fictional spider.
Now, Saint Marty just has to convince a group of graduate students the same thing.
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| Not feeling it just yet |
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