Today, I kick off my post with a nod to the Foo Fighters. They've always been a band that I've liked and respected, but never listened to seriously until the local college radio station started playing "The Pretender" on heavy rotation. I can't get enough of the new album. Simply, they rock.
Work's been significantly horrific lately--I'm building a project that's guaranteed to waste money, piss people off, and take up a lot of time. But hey, I'm just a goon, and who cares about office automation that saves millions? Not my company. They like making employees feel bad on many levels.
But the point of today's blog isn't to bitch about work (hell, I could get fired for that), It's to talk about the chapter's end booming right up into the presence of my present: The end of Graduate School. In two months, I'll be a Master. Of words. And hopefully by the end of the year, I'll have a finished book.
I sent in my thesis on saturday, and now all that's left are a few things (with ridiculously short deadlines): 1. Workshop Piece 2. Prep for PCEA Conference 3. Warrior Poet Group Creative Assignment 4. Prep for Graduating Lecture and Reading 5. Comment on Workshop stuff.
The worst part? I'm ready to take a break. Yesterday. But I have till the 9th for the Workshop, PCEA, and Warrior Poet Deadlines. I'm sure Rod'll let me slide a little on the WPG (though he may break an arm if I slide more than a day), but the other two are pretty daunting at the moment. For Workshop, I'm taking this story, "The Poetics of Memory" and trying to fix the structural outer story so that it exists as a complete arc in its own vein to mirror the interior arc. Hopefully, the ideas I have tonight will help facilitate that. For the PCEA Conference, I have to condense a 33 page ECE into a 15 minute presentation, and a 23 page story into a similarly timed reading. I don't imagine that portion should be too rough, but it'll still take a couple of days.
Once everything school is done, I'm looking forward to a few days of doin' nuthin' with the family, demolishing my basement, and maybe even playing a little Rockband (the best type of crack/cocaine available).
That's the news from Erie, the city where the weather always sucks, and I like it that way.
3 comments:
*sigh* is it awful that I'm grateful that someone else knows how I feel? not that I wish this sort of deadline hell on you. You. Me. Lobby. Beer. Look, I can see into the future...
Yes there shall be much mirth to be had in the ole' Brown lobby come May 23
Breaking bones? I guess I am a lot like Shiva. I'm fine when left to my own inward reverie, but disturb me with deadline excuses and whole universes must be destroyed.
I also trample dwarves.
Take your time with WPG. I ain't in no hurry.
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