...and then all of the sudden my inner Victorian is all like, "dude, you have a shitload of stuff to do in the next couple of days, stop worrying about boys who abandoned you, you do not have time for this, etc." The inner Victorian is right. And sometimes it's that easy to snap out of it.
I have been getting better about going to the gym at Teaching College when I get too frustrated in the school library. I fantasize about having one campus where the library, my department, my teaching cubicle, and the gym are all kinda in the same place.
The initial panic was brought on by realizing that I'm already a bit behind on prep and that substantial portions of the next two weekends are going to be taken up with draft reading and grading. If I do 10 per day on Saturday / Sunday, that's three hours a day (I use a timer), which is doable, but I'd rather have one day to read drafts than five.
The sound of the radiator is bound to drive me crazy.
Also: Happy fucking Valentine's day. Well, maybe "fucking" is the wrong adjective here.
About Me
- the other woman
- "She did not know if she did it on purpose, but she lived as a fatality the necessity of destining her pleasure to the absent one, who moreover was not always the same, the other of the other always possibly being an other. This is naturally, and here I have to quote her, a 'surplus' of always available pleasure, and a 'fatal deprivation.' After a silence: the day that I love someone, man or woman, I am certain, or I believe that it will stop, in any event this is how I will recognize love. I have loved a lot, however, without ever abandoning myself to those I loved, presently I mean. And up to the present. Another silence (I had already asked for the bill) and without anything provocative or vulgar, with a kind of confidence which I still like to think of: I have the feeling that with you [vous] it would be different." (Derrida, Envois)
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