Too Much

Welp, the Virginia Woolf paper is done. Part of me wants to insert a self-deprecating joke in here like, "for better or worse, here we go!" but the fact is, it's a good paper. I put about 50 hours of work into that thing, between researching, re-reading, thinking and thinking and thinking (in the shower, in the car, in class, at work, while watching TV, while taking Loo Loo Bell to the vet) and finally, writing.

It's a good paper. I'll get an A. I'll read Woolf (or, as I lovingly call her to my class mates, "Vee Dub," for her initials) for the rest of my life. She has changed my life for the better.

But this semester has been too much, and I realize that now.

Much of our driving in South Dakota looked like this. This is an interstate. This is also how I visualize the inside of my brain this semester. Looking for something in particular? Good luck!

The nail in the coffin of my mental stability and well-being, I now see so clearly, was taking two literature classes at the same time. I've taken two classes at the same time before, but in those combinations, only one of them was literature, and that made all the difference. There is not enough time in a week to work as many hours as I do and to read a minimum of two novels and to write analytical papers about them in conjunction with reading critical theory. That is not, like, actually possible given the time and space parameters within which I must work.

There has not been time left over for anything. I know that I blog about fun things on here, but I've even had to work for those - long hours of grading and reading/writing in advance in order to take a couple of days off for Vegas or whatever. (Not complaining! But also, that way of life is not sustainable!)

I don't know how I would have managed to complete some of my last assignments (and grading) of the semester if I hadn't taken the mini-sabbatical during the Salt Lake City conference. I worked for hours upon hours in solitude and that single handedly saved my semester.

Large Peppermint Mocha: the other thing that saved my semester

I keep thinking that all I want is a routine, but I act in opposition to that. Each time that I get used to, say, positive changes that I've made in my teaching, or in my syllabus, I decide to make even more. I decide to switch up all the assignments, or the text book, or whatever, and that snowballs into a complete overhaul every few months. Even as I type this, I already know that I'm going to change the text book for next semester, which changes all the homework, which changes some of the in-class lectures, and on top of that I'm going to add in an extra paper for them - which adds in 50 additional papers to grade.

But it is what it is. I realize that as much as I think I want to be complacent and operate within some type of mindless routine, that is not at all what I actually do or how I actually live my life.

How I actually live my life is through constant evaluation and goal-making and pushing the boundaries to prove to myself that I can do this. This career change was the right decision. I belong on campus, in a multitude of capacities, forever.

But I'm never taking two lit classes again.

These family times have been few and far between.

All joking aside, I do not know how I'm going to research and write my last paper - the American Novel one - in the next 24 hours. I sacrificed a lot of time from this project to finish the VW paper, and the scary thing is that this next paper is for my most difficult instructor. I don't know how I'm going to organize my thoughts, much less put them into writing, much less pull off a near-perfect paper. 

I have a work meeting (my semester evaluation) this afternoon, and I work for several hours tomorrow. Goodbye, sleep! It was nice knowing you! I'll spend plenty of quality time with you over the holiday break!