scoldings

None of your grades are posted--and I will not have internet access again until I return on June 30. So you will now have to print out your grades and have Courtney sign the sheet for me. I don't know why you didn't post them, but I can now not submit them electronically at all. Please make a copy of the whole thing for me since the grades are in my name. And please be sure you WALK them over on Monday.

From my supervisor.

My stomach clenches. Blood pumps through me faster, all of it settling into my face, uncomfortable pressure. I feel my heart working it out high up in my chest, thumping away against my clavicle. I know that innards don't work like that, the heart has a solid place in my chest, but I imagine it floating a bit more freely, anchored by veins but in times of stress, responding somewhat suicidally by trying to escape the situation, a fish leaping out out of the waters of my body.

Why do I just fritter away time while bad situations become catastrophic? I fret over how to take care of my students instead of focusing on my responsibilities. Whatever generosity I can extend to them has to be within the boundaries of what I need to do. Head-poundingly dumb misprioritization.

After a weekend of closing my eyes and hunching my shoulders every time I thought of that email, as if it would disappear if I just made my vision go dark, she drove into town today and did sumbit them electronically--thank god because when I asked Courtney about it, she was like, no dice: registrar's will have to produce missing grade reports and you and Kathy will have to go through and sign each one. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Never again will I put myself through this. Must do grades first thing. Michael was right to nag me about it. Responsibilities to university deadlines are larger than responsibilities to my personal health and development of my work, particuarly when they are relatively infrequent.


THE LISTS

to do class: Write JM recommendation. Grade papers. Figure out participation grades. Make gwc presa handouts.
done! Finished gwc presa. Did participation grades. Graded papers. Wrote JM rec. Made gwc handouts and copies.
So no more "to do class" section until September. Strange and fabulous sensation.

to do work: write goffman section. write how the dramaturgical setup is important to these texts. rewrite setting section. integrate castells into theory section. write hypersexuality section.
done! wrote goffman and dramaturgical setup sections. rewrote the setting section.

to do life: Pay down debt (currently $2,326.09). Procure dog. Redo taxes. Do fafsa. Send siff letter. Figure out Amazon.com problem. Repot ginko tree and cactus. Clean my apt--the bathroom, swift the floor, sweep patio, vaccuum rug, laundry. Research screen door acquisition.
done! Put away books and clothes, did dishes, swept patio, laundry. Figured out the Amazon problem--got my money back. Bought bopts for the plants...a good first step...

to do blitz: sarah, marilyn, giulia, irmary, mariana, dar, nv, robin, fl, ek, sf, marzena, thérèse, hen, dorith.

Netflixed: The Piano Teacher. Ay! I super freaked out when she took a razor blade to her vagina. But really, in terms of portraying how the French socialize through bullying tactics, it's perfect. There's one shot of a girl whose face is cast in a grimace, only one drop of snot dangles from her nose, the camera freezes and then swivels away to see the casual activity in the waiting room: degradation and its physical effects are commonplace, clearly. But maybe because I'm not that familiar with s/m and bondage, during the hard-core scene at the end, I wasn't sure if the abuse was part of their contract or if he was absolutely violating her. That was bewildering for a second. Uncomfortable realization that although the contents of my list of demands was more overtly emotional and not as carnal, and delivered piecemeal as opposed to in a single letter, I have also tried to exert control over relationships with similarly--although again far less extreme--damaging results.

The Dreamers. I love the idea of an almost purely citational movie, as this is, but I found the kids hard to watch together. Not in their sexual experimentation, but in their integration of filmic mimesis, with pseudo-profound philosophy, and their unreal relationship did not work at all for me. So when in the end they break up over approaches to revolutionary action, it feels totally silly to me.