Ok, I'm plagiarizing here, but lately I feel like "House of No Momentum." Seriously. (Side note: I'm way overdoing the "seriously" in my own writing--I realize this.) I don't know what my deal is lately, but I'm having a really hard time getting anything done. I shouldn't say "anything;" it's more like I'm having a really hard time getting professional stuff (and laundry) done. It's like all I want to do is read, write, crafts, cook, whatever. But my teaching feels sucky, and grading just isn't happening. This is unlike me, and it rather concerns me. First, I'm not a procrastinator by nature; I'm just not. I don't like to let things pile up, even first-year essays. Second, I'm not one to wait around until I feel "motivated" to do work. I firmly believe that action begats motivation, that if I work at something, eventually momentum gets built up, and that's where the feeling of motivation comes from. Still, it's like nothing is getting done. And really, part of it's this whole weird anxiety / perfectionism thing: I feel like I can't get down to working, to grading, to even reading for class until I get my desk and my office area all neat and organized. Maybe that's a backwards kind of procrastination, or something.

I feel sluggish. And I keep telling myself that I'll be OK if only I do more yoga, which I somehow seem to never get to either. And all I really want to do is read popular fiction and threaten to read Virginia Wolf, although serious reading isn't really happening for me either. I want to knit and crochet and make soup and take photos of everything interesting that comes my way. And crafts, paper crafts especially.

OK, so now that I've turned this post into a big, whiney rant, I might as well go for it. I also feel like sucky teacher lately. I'm only teaching three classes this term. One is loads of fun and is going reasonably well, although the students aren't always as responsive as I'd like. This may be attributable to the 8:00 time slot. And another is going mostly OK, although I'm drowning in grading that just isn't getting done. The third is painful. And I can't figure out what the deal is. It's a class that I've taught at least four (I think more) times before, and I think I've been succesful in the past. I waltz into class each day with my usual enthusiasm, give my usual song and dance, and the students just aren't into it. They don't answer questions, don't even seem to pretend to be interested. And I don't know what to do about it. I'm sure that part of it has to do with the actual, physical classroom. The class is overenrolled, and there aren't enough seats if everyone shows up, which is kinda a problem. And the students are all kinda squished in, and there's this derelict looking TV and VCR on a cart in the corner. I don't know; it's just not, apparently, super conducive to learning or something. And so there I am, putting in my three hours a week, play acting in front of an audience that positively exudes apathy. Ah well, only eight more weeks of class, and then it all changes.

And then there's the loneliness. The more that I think about relationships and such, the more I come to believe that companionship is really what I want, you know? Someone to share the silences and empty spaces with, someone who's somehow willing to play along with popcorn and BBC adaptations of murder mysteries. Does that make sense? And really, "a little conversation," provided its with the right people would go a long way.

And what is it about Virginia Wolf? Why do I keep coming back to her? What's going on there that I think I can identify with? I can't figure it out. Kinda makes me think that what I really need is a good psychoanalyst. I mean that only half-jokingly. What is it about VW that I want to embrace or even to be? I can't figure it out. I'm spending my life as what Julia Cameron calls a "shadow artist," always loving words, images, writing, yet not being brave enough to produce art of my own. And maybe that's it. Maybe I want to be VW (sans, the insanity, of course). Or maybe I just believe in the power of words, that reading and writing can somehow save me, can save us all.