Yeah. So. Really haven't been doing much of interest lately. Well, got the Romanticism Project sent off on Friday, so that was good. But it seems like a long time ago and I've already put it out of my head so I can focus on everything else. Also, I did a lot of drinking and goofing off for about 48 hours after that. Mostly fun, but also a long recovery. House/cat-sat for Fabulous Committee Member. Hoping I didn't kill her husband's tomato plant. Threw together the beginnings of the syllabus for the fall class. And went back to the Victorian Project. It needs a big overhaul. I think I can do it, but it's daunting. I'm sort of debating at the moment whether to push myself to start that tonight or just take a (not entirely deserved) night off and go to bed early. (Which I may not be able to do, since I keep having trouble falling asleep at like 2.) I could compromise and read more.
Had a number of dreams about people I knew while housesitting for FCM. Most of these could be described as vaguely to entirely inappropriate. I also had a dream where the premise was that everything of the last year and a half was the dream and I was still with my ex. That one had me shaking a bit when I woke up.
Also while at FCM's apartment, I read Gary Shteyngart's Russian Debutante's Handbook on a whim. It was kind of awesome. I don't read much fiction published after, say, 1900 and almost nothing of the last ten years, beyond some Murakami (and even that might be older) and whatever's in the New Yorker. But maybe I should start. I mean, I do only have one of Trollope's Palliser novels left for my before-bed reading.
I feel like it's been kind of a frustrating week with The Poet. I don't really want to go into much detail right now. I mean, in a way it's just kind of your basic *relationship* stuff...which of course generates its own drama because I get thrown back into worrying about having a relationship. Not the way I was in June, but somewhat similar. Without the need for Xanax. In a way, I'm trying to look at some of this as a blessing in disguise, where circumstances step in to hold things in check a bit right at the point where I get ready to let go a little bit too much. If that makes any sense. I think this is all of a piece with the walking on water thing.
As the fall semester starts, I'm going to be co-blogging (under my real name) at a field-specific blog that one of my colleagues has started. It's listed on my Facebook profile if you're interested.
Sometimes I have these really great moments where I really feel like I'm getting somewhere. Clearly, however, these moments are not currently connected to this blog. Perhaps when I'm not starting down 10,000 words of my own making and wondering how to make them make sense.
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