Dereliction of Duty
Dear Blog: did you know that I am right now sitting in a computer lab administering a final exam for my freshman comp students? Yes, it’s true, yes, yes, I am reading Attic Apartment while they toil away on their keyboards, trying to impress me, not understanding that by this moment in the semester I am so bored with teaching and so giddy with the taste of freedom that I would classify almost anything as A-grade writing. I am reading a great book and smelling sort of bad and there are only two students left in here by now, 8:31 AM (from 7:30 AM), one of them my very best student, who will probably fret about her essay so much that we’ll both be here until we’re kicked out in an hour’s time. Here is an observation for you, something I’ve learned from teaching: almost all students either worry excessively over something they’ve done well in the first 15 minutes, or confidently toss a haphazard jumble of words into my lap.
I am reading a great book right now. What book is it? It is this one. It is a retelling of the Frankenstein legend, with the conceit that instead of an ogre-ish man, the monster is a sex-crazed and intelligent blonde woman. (Now that I’m writing this, I realize she reminds me of the character Eliza in the Baroque Cycle. Maybe this kind of character keeps popping up in the literature of male writers because of a need to create such a perfect woman.) It’s great great. I almost gave up on it but over the weekend while sitting in a coffee shop with Sarah and eating tuna sandwiches and drinking coffee I grew bored with editing and pulled it out and that’s that.
Previously I had decided that I no longer write on the AA because I had left whatever spark of inspiration or motivation I used to enjoy in the cubicles of Iowa Vocational Rehabilitation Services, but now I realize only too late that the only inspiration necessary is sleep deprivation.
These are my holiday plans: at some point I will be gone to Minneapolis. After losing a Twister marathon Sarah agreed to come with me for Christmas and so will be in Albia, staying at my parents' house, for at least 30 hours surrounding that damnable holiday.
I am reading a great book right now. What book is it? It is this one. It is a retelling of the Frankenstein legend, with the conceit that instead of an ogre-ish man, the monster is a sex-crazed and intelligent blonde woman. (Now that I’m writing this, I realize she reminds me of the character Eliza in the Baroque Cycle. Maybe this kind of character keeps popping up in the literature of male writers because of a need to create such a perfect woman.) It’s great great. I almost gave up on it but over the weekend while sitting in a coffee shop with Sarah and eating tuna sandwiches and drinking coffee I grew bored with editing and pulled it out and that’s that.
Previously I had decided that I no longer write on the AA because I had left whatever spark of inspiration or motivation I used to enjoy in the cubicles of Iowa Vocational Rehabilitation Services, but now I realize only too late that the only inspiration necessary is sleep deprivation.
These are my holiday plans: at some point I will be gone to Minneapolis. After losing a Twister marathon Sarah agreed to come with me for Christmas and so will be in Albia, staying at my parents' house, for at least 30 hours surrounding that damnable holiday.
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