November 26: Exceedingly Laborious, Back to the Grind, Water Essay, Writing and Rewriting

When in the Southern Fishery a captured Sperm Whale, after long and weary toil, is brought alongside late at night, it is not, as a general thing at least, customary to proceed at once to the business of cutting him in. For that business is an exceedingly laborious one; is not very soon completed; and requires all hands to set about it.

Back to the grind.  If I were on the Pequod, I'd be cutting in the captured sperm whale.  Instead, I was at my desk at 6 a.m., working through a pile of faxes, answering e-mails, and writing.  After a four-day-weekend, I found myself profoundly unmotivated.  I missed seeing my wife and kids in the morning.  Missed the warmth of my house.  All I wanted to do was continue the Thanksgiving weekend.

That being said, I have been fairly productive today.  I finished one of the three writing projects that have been on my to-do list.  A little essay about water that a friend of mine asked me to write for a local publication.  It has been a month-long process.  Starts and stops.  Long stretches and dead ends.  It finally all came together this morning.  I typed it up and sent it off.  Now, I wait for my friend's feedback.  As Truman Capote once said, "Good writing is rewriting."

I'm actually not sure how my friend is going to respond to what I sent him.  It's a little weird.  A lyric essay with some linguistics thrown in for good measure.  It's the kind of stuff I like reading.  Half poetry.  Half prose.  Flights of images.  And Jesus walking on water.  What more could a person want?

I taught this afternoon, as well.  Mythology.  We're finishing up our section on Grimms fairy tales.  It's been a long half-semester, and I'm eyes-deep in piles of grading.  Papers and quizzes.  Pretty soon, final exams and more papers.

On top of all that, I'm still waiting to hear whether I will have a job after December 31st.  There's an air of fatalism that seems to be hanging over the medical office where I work.  Everybody has already decided that the end times are upon us.  Now, I'm not wearing blinders.  I've got contingency plans.  Not really appealing contingency plans, but they will get me through until I find something better.

Work.  Writing,  Teaching.  Worry.  That has been my day.  I'm kind of exhausted.

Saint Marty isn't ready to rewrite his life anymore tonight.