Back in the land

Whew. Holidays over. Survived. Identity intact? Unsure, as I have been with people constantly for many days. This is the first morning I woke up by myself--really by myself--with no one waiting for me to come to breakfast, no one in my house (I arrived home to guests who were supposed to be gone before I arrived but who were not), and no one in my bed (yes, I rang, er, banged in the New Year with Demetrius).


Some (expected) drama at Sis's. Did my strategies work? 1. Fogging: As I suspected, fam caught on and accused me of being strangely "distant;" 2. Retreat: Some why-are-you-leaving-so-soon interrogations but for the most part worked; 3. Working on deadline: HAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! HA! 4. Walking: Worked. Dad now jokes about his strange notions regarding fresh air--claims it has to do with his Cherokee blood and something about evil wind demons.

Speaking of which, I do not think I am in the whirlwind but I feel it close by. Feel especially susceptible to whirlwind that is Demetrius, centered around crazy "someday we are going to be magnificent" comment made (by him) during one of our typical "you know and I know" conversations/make-out sessions. The you-now-and-I-know dynamic is an elaborate, mystified, romanticized way of dealing with what I do know: we are both too emotionally retarded to say what we know or to let it mean anything. Unsure if this was the ideal way to start a new year.

Anyway, must avoid all whirlwinds and get to work. Can I possibly do everything I absolutely have to do in the next two weeks? Must write that article (which involves re-reading primary stuff, researching, and writing), write three syllabi (including one for a new barely designed course and one for a poorly conceived and run course I taught two years ago), find and copy reading packet materials for two courses, and avoid my chair (who is hot on my trail to handle massive search-committee workload before the semester begins) like the plague.

I was feeling excited about my work, right? Can't quite recapture that feeling at the moment. Maybe replying to recent email from Dr. Muckity Muck (the big shot who flirts and drinks with me at conferences) will help. Can only vaguely explain why communication with him gets me charged about work--somehow sexual and somehow ego-driven.

End of telegraphic ramble. Out of practice. Happy. Though. To. Be. Back.