Am starting to feel like I can never get ahead. Just as I finish one thing, say my Memoir homework, and start to feel as though I may possibly be able to kick back, watch some TV and maybe go to bed before 3 a.m., some other damn thing pops up, like a required re-write of my WP121 proposal.

Am I being punished for something?

Great-grandmother is in the hospital--fell and broke her hip, is better now--and when she initially got there, she was hallucinating. To her I say, right there with you Gramma, right there with you. Only it isn't a bump on the noggin that's doing it to me, it's extreme exhaustion, hunger, and quiet possibly the suicide of brain cells.

Help... me....

This post contains strong language... read at your own risk. The author accepts no responsibility for offended eyes.

Ok... WTF is wrong with me? I just agreed to meet up for drinks with my ex--we shall, in a thinly veiled attempt to preserve his anonymity, call him Chaz--after class tonight. A summary of the extent of our (turbulent) relationship would go something like this:

Chaz and I met at a bar, started dating a couple weeks after that, became exclusive and serious a couple more weeks after that. Chaz had to get shoulder surgery, moved in with me on a temporary basis, which became permanent. I fought with my friends (and then roomies) over his moving in--both parties were "wrong" on several and separate points--lost a few friends who I have since made up with. While Chaz was out of work, I basically supported us. Chaz, my ex-roomie (much love to Lindsey!), and I moved into a smaller apartment together, Chaz started staying out late. Our relationship deteriorated, I believe Chaz cheated on me. We broke-up, after roughly 2 years together, which was not pretty and resulted in a severe depression on my part (keep passing the open windows). Chaz moved out... leaving roomie and I in a lurch, despite the assurance "that will never happen."

I eventually got over Chaz, sorta, and we tried to be friends. In reality, we became the most dysfunctional and hurtful kind of friends imaginable. Eventually, after a year of inflicting pain on each other, Chaz got a job in Florida (sidenote: FL is a dumping ground for my exes. I will NEVER move to FL). A night or two before his departure, he calls me and b*tches me out--something to the effect that I cheated on him in the past year (mind you, this is the year in which we WERE NOT together, when we were "just friends") and proceeds to tell me how horrible of an individual I am. I basically say, albeit tearfully, "F*ck you, Chaz, I'm glad you're moving away and I never have to see/talk to you ever again."

One would assume end of story, correct? Ah... no. Chaz proceeds, after about a month or so, to call and text message.

I ignore.

He leaves me voicemails, first cajoling and then demanding to know why I am not returning his calls.

I ignore.

He text messages me four times a day, every day, for a month.

I ignore... until I get my cell bill and realize that his texting has driven my bill up by $60. So I call and query politely "Hey. You called?" He proceeded to tell me all about how wonderful life is, how wonderful Florida is, and wouldn't I love to come and visit? Basically acting like he never treated me like a whore and oh-so-meanly.

I remain aloof and cold. I do not participate in his conversation, and answer with short, terse sentences when asked questions.

Long story short, he comes back up here for Turkey day, manages to corner me into accepting a night out. It's my own fault really, I played my cards poorly. I tried to make is sound like I was highly unavailable, and the only time I had free was 10:30 p.m. on a Monday night AND I had to be home by 12:00 a.m. because I have a busy day on Tuesday (which, I don't. I plan to go to the gym, write the remaining 3 pages on my Memoir submission... nothing strenuous). The plan was he'd be like "oh, I understand. No biggie. Maybe over Christmas."

F*cker was like "Sounds good!"

Monkey balls! So now I'm trapped into going out with him. To make matters worse, dear old mother f*cking Chaz is like "Umm... can I drop my bag off at your place?" Apparently, the f*cker has been bouncing around between various friends' apartments.

I'll be damned if he thinks he's staying at my place.

We shall see how this night turns out. I'm debating if I should ask him where/how/if he gets his rocks off treating me the way he did, and then pretending that it never happened. In all likelihood, I'll just suffer in silence through the night.

Edit to add: Well things went ok. Chaz showed up late, but what did I expect, right? We went to the bar down the road, had a beer and some nachos. The following conversation ensued:

Me: Do you have a place to stay tonight?
Chaz: I think so... let me call Dan.
Fiddles with phone
Chaz: Oh darn, Dan's asleep.
Me: (sigh) You can stay on the futon if you want.
Chaz: (with feigned surprise) I have to sleep on the futon?!
Me: Yes. That's where guests sleep... on the futon.
Chaz: Man, I can't sleep on the futon
Takes out phone, sloooooowwwwly dials Dan's number. Smiles at me, daring me to succumb to his fake-ass charm.
Chaz: Yeah dude. I need you to blow up the air-mattress...
Tina mentally does her happy dance to a round of huzzahs!

I love long weekends for the simple fact that they allow me to catch up. Case in point: my WP121 course proposal. I just finished it and sent it off to my boss. I think I picked a unique and sexy (sexy=interesting, you pervs) topic: Virtual Realities, Virtual Bodies--Identity and Technology. Spring Semester Little Darlings will be reading William Gibson's Neuromancer as one primary text and looking at the role of Molly vs. Case in terms of gender studies theory text (probably something on gender as performance and Haraway's "Cyborg Manifesto" which is all about how technology will empower women) for one essay, probably movie for the second essay--either Blade Runner, Fritz Lang's Metropolis, or James Whale's Frankenstein and look at construction of the other in relation to self for the second essay. I'm a tiny bit psyched to teach it now!

I've been doing some more thinking on what I'm going to do after I graduate grad school. I really want to teach on the college level so I think I'm going to have to get a doctorate. And I think I'd really like a doctorate in both film studies and literature. I think it would be amazing to teach a combined film/lit class based in sci-fi. Now THAT is a class I'd like to take!

Back to spending time with the fam...

It occurred to me the other day that I will be graduating from Graduate School in six months. Six months, people! That thought was immediately followed by this one: what the hell am I going to do after I graduate?

Ideally, I'd like to keep teaching. And I think I'd like to move south for awhile, maybe Savannah GA (I've been obsessed with Savannah ever since I read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil) or New Orleans (ok... I wanted to move to New Orleans when I was a teenager and obsessed with Anne Rice and found out she lives there) or out west to Arizona or maybe even Texas. Who the heck knows. I'll probably end up back at my parents house.

But here's the catch. All those "maybes" up above are all fine and dandy. What I really need is a J-O-B. I'd like a job teaching at a college, but as one of my friends pointed out, ya' kinda gotta start applying for those now. So there's one more thing to add to my hectic schedule. And if I get a job teaching, it'll probably only be a part-time Adjunct position, so that means I've got to find a second job. Ugh. Which means probably waitressing.

When I was a teenager, I waitressed at this mom-and-pop kind of diner in my hometown. I didn't mind it, I made a decent amount of money that allowed me to buy a car, buy clothes, books, movie passes... If I were forced to do this again, at the age of 28 (cause I'll be that old by then) it had better be someplace that requires big tips --although, I would say that I learned when I was a teen that big tips are a myth.

Maybe I should just take a year off, apply to some Doctorate programs, then try to get a position teaching full time? But then there's the question of what the heck would I get a doctorate in... Film Studies, Rhetoric and Composition, Literature... do I even want to do that? Wouldn't that cramp my writing? Would I then become not-a-writer?

Or, maybe if I continue to slog through two part-time jobs, I can write a book. And get published. It'll become wildly popular, prompting some studio big-wig to buy the rights to my book. I would insist that I be retained as the scriptwriter, with some artistic say in how the movie is made (yeah right--that never happens!). The movie would become an Oscar winning hit and I would be set job-wise for life. I'd pay all my debt, send my grandparents on a well deserved vacation, pay my parent's debt....

*sigh*

Being a grown-up sucks.

Today I realized, as the Noodle sits asleep on my shoulder making biscuits in her sleep, that my days with her are numbered. In three short days, my sister and I pack up the car and drive six and a half hours to Mom and Dad's, returning on Sunday without the Noodle. I wonder sometimes if the Noodle knows that her days with us are numbered, she's been really loving lately, all purrs and headbutts and chin nuzzles. She's been a little more sedate, less running around and bouncing off the walls and more snuggling. I know she's going to a good home (hello, it's my Mom) but that selfish little part of me really wants to keep her for myself. She's dreaming now, a mewling a little in her sleep. I wonder if she knows it breaks my heart.

Of course, I've been sitting in my apartment, shades drawn, watching The Last Unicorn. I think I must have watched this animated movie about 100 times when I was a kid, and every time, without fail, it made me mopey and moody for the rest of the day. It's the story of the last unicorn that sets out on a quest to save the others from King Haggard. During the course of the movie, she becomes a human (a neat trick of magic wrought by Shmendrick the magician) in order to escape the Red Bull. She meets and falls in love with Lir, King Haggard's son. Unicorns aren't supposed to regret or feel love, but in the end, she does.

I'm not doing it justice. It's incredibly sad. I think the only animated movie that affected me more as a kid was Watership Down, which is about a bunch of rabbits.

Whatever. Just watch it.

Edit to add: and the hits ust keep on rolling in. Just finished watching Moulin Rouge. What IS it with Sad Movie Day? I suppose if they ("they" being whomever makes decisions about what gets put on Sunday T.V.) want to make me cry, they'll show Swing Kids or Hotel Rwanda (see this post) or some other equally emotional yet ultimately uplifting piece of cinematic delectability.

In a crazy fit this morning, I went from 2941 (or there abouts) words to 3233. Go me!

Baby steps, people, baby steps.

I'd like to give a shout out to my co-teacher. Other grad students take How to Teach Freshman Writing class and sign-up with us adjuncts. They're supposed to take on increasing amounts of responsibility in the class, ultimately teaching a full class. My co-teacher definitely had a trial by fire today. The Little Darlings read Albert Memmi's essay "Racism and Opression," which lead to a very heated conversation. Shuchi, bless her heart, was able to keep everything under control, which--believe it or not--is an incredibly daunting task. Facing a classroom of 13 unique, if not angsty, personalties that really just want to argue a point to death (and loudly at that) and love to tell each other that they're wrong, is hard. Its hard to tell them that they need to be considerate of each other and that perhaps their own behavior is an example of exactly what we're talking about. And 18 year olds are so sure they've got the world figured, out so who the hell are you, teacher lady, to challenge my beliefs and tell me that perhaps I need to think outside the box???! So you go girl! (snap).

I am not a quitter. In fact, I relish a challenge and 9 times out of 10 will rise above and beyond said challenge. That being said...

I am giving up on NaNoWriMo. I've got under 3,000 words, people. That is peanuts next to the Big Scary Number That I Should Be At. I could attempt to make it up over Thanksgiving, but who am I kidding? Turkey Day is all about, well, turkey and football. *sigh* I really don't want to give up, cause I like my idea, I like my characters, and I honestly think it could go somewhere (ok--clarification: if the novel were to be completed, and subjected to heavy revision, it could go some where. Where I don't know, but somewhere). I am not an ungifted writer. In fact, I consider myself pretty darn gifted, having had a poem made into a COPYRIGHTED song (fine... it was the 4th grade, but still), and having won a few writing contests (mostly honorable mentions, but I'll take that, thank you very much).

And need I remind you, I am not a quitter?

In other news, I found out the other day that one of my fellow instructors here at Emerson College also went to St. Lawrence University. We've been working on a project together for a couple weeks now, and never knew. Granted, she's four years younger than me, so we would've never hung out by virtue of I graduated, but nonetheless! Just goes to show you, Larries are everywhere and we will rule the world!

This little ditty just proves how technology dependant we (I) are (am).

I was at one of the school computer labs, tip-typing away on a computer. I had my phone on vibrate next to the computer, just in case one of my non-existant friends decided to call (what, my imaginary friends have cell phones too!). I finished typing, printed out my paper, packed up my stuff and left for class.

Class is humming along at a nice clip, I'm participating and wracking up major points with my thesis advisor, Richard Hoffman, when it comes time to take a break. I reach into my bag for my cell phone (remember, I have friends. No really, I do!) only, no cell phone. I frantically search my entire bag, literally turning it inside out. No dice. I search the floor, my jacket pockets, my pants pockets (which are clearly empty). No dice.

I'm starting to panic. My friend Lisa offers to call my phone, thinking perhaps I just misplaced it. So we call. It rings and rings and rings... with no answer.

Now, all this has taken place in the span of roughly five, maybe eight minutes. I am PANICKING. I mean full out cold sweat panic. My entire social life is contained on that phone. Without it, I am truly the shut-in I have come to perceive myself to be. Without that phone, how am I supposed to know if my friends want to hang out? Oh. My. GOD. I'm going die alone, friendless, and no one will even know...

Ring! Lisa hands me the phone... it's me.

Apparently, long story short, I left my phone in the computer lab, Lisa (who coincidentally is there working on the same assignment I was) found it and gave it to the lab tech, who in turn gave it to campus security. They were kind enough to call back Lisa/me and inform me that they had my beloved connection to the outside world.

Crisis averted.

Now about those friends...

So I've about doubled my NaNoWriMo numbers, which is good. I'm still abysmally behind. Technically I should be up around 20,000 words. As you can see, I'm at about a 1/10th of that. I blame life (stupid life).

Team HOT won our quarter final game, so next week we play in the semi-finals and then, hopefully, the finals. So here's hoping we win!

Right now I'm watching Hotel Rwanda. I remember watching the Hutu/Tutsi civil war on T.V. in 1994--I would've been about 13 at the time--and thinking how awful it was that one group of people could summarily wipe out another. I'm not a crier, but I teared up multiple times. This movie has made me feel ashamed that we, as a nation, stood by and did little to help these people/the situation. In one sense, I guess there are wars that a country must fight, after all, we had our own civil war that did much to create our national identity. On the other hand, can we, in this day of technologically advanced weaponry and in an age when other's civil wars become--like so many chess pieces on the board--power plays, can we truly turn a blind eye? Then again, perhaps like the movie depicts, perhaps the true power to change events lies in the hands of the individual...

Stepping off my soapbox now...

So I'm a little bit behind in NaNoWriMo... and by little I mean I've only managed to write 1485 (see the fancy widget to the side--really, I'm get quiet good at this manipulating my blog template stuff!). Right now, its like the NaNo word count (a mere 50,000) is a great dane and I'm a flea. But I'm trying! I've mapped out a general plot (some would call this an outline) and I've long-hand written a few scenes. So now it's all aobut the typing and what not!

In other news, the Little Darlings have turned in the rough draft of essay three. Today, I'm attempting to slog through thirteen papers on the environment. At some point, I need to decide what books I need/want to order for my Wp121: Research Writing class. So far I've picked out Neuromancer by William Gibson (my topic is Virtual Realities, Virtual Bodies: Technology and Identity). I haven't had time to read over other books, that's this weekend I guess since I've got three days free and the class proposal is due November 17th-ish.

Where the heck does time go??!!

Noodle is being SO CUTE right now! She's curled up in front of the computer--we call this her cybercat position. She likes to sit on my lap when I'm typing and watch the images on the screen move around. Sometimes she'll try to bat at them. She's truly a cat of the 21st century!

I don't think I've mentioned the Noodle before. She's a orphaned kitten that my sister, a Vet Tech, brought home one day. Kim is raising her until Thanksgiving at which time Noodle will go to her permanent home Mom's house. I adore kittens, but can't wait until she's a cat. She spends a large portion of her waking hours torment Tai, climbing up things (like my pants), biting things (like my toes and fingers), and waking me up (ESPECIALLY if it's 4 a.m.).

I'm crazy. I b*tch about all the stuff I have to do (if you haven't heard it before: grading papers, reading student homework, planning lessons, grading more papers, attempting to get my own homework done, attempting a social life, occasionally eating and sleeping), I've decided to participate in NaNoWriMo. So yeah, I'm crazy.

I'm also officially one day behind. BUT i can't write every day (see aforementioned "stuff I have to do"). So I'm trying this system where I write every Thursday, Saturday and Sunday. I figure if I write about 5500 words (about 8 pages single spaced) each of those days, I can make it to the 50,000 target.

Here's the deal though... it's 8 p.m. on Thursday night and I've got about 500 words... this does not bode well.

Wish me luck!