I'm a little surprised xanga hasn't shut me down for inactivity . . . though I guess I did pay them in March for a year of ad-free space (and promptly stopped posting
). Um, hi, everyone!
It's been a long time, but I'm still alive, still in grad school, still in Texas, still learning about literature and
so much more. Aaaaaaand I'm still procrastinating.
Right now I'm supposed to be writing my journal entry on
Island so that I can give the book to my professor so that she can read (part of) it so that we can discuss it in our independent study "class" meeting on Monday. So that I can be smart. Yes.
Or something like that.
I've got kind of an insane schedule this semester. (Of course.) I'm teaching a new-to-me class, the equivalent of Harding's Comp II, and then taking three grad seminars of my own (instead of the usual two), one of which is an independent study. I'm SO proud of the independent study: it's a course I designed myself on twentieth-century Asian American literature. I came up with the idea in November, found a prof to teach it (one of my favorites!
), put together the book list and schedule, and handled all the paperwork. So far, it's been marvelous.
I read Helen Zia's
Asian American Dreams: The Emergence of an American People last week and covered
Island this weekend. I'd actually scheduled myself just to do selections from
Island, but the poetry and interviews were so poignant that I couldn't put the thing down. (Zia's book, on the other hand, was good and sometimes stirring, but devolved into a bit too much political spin for my taste.) Hm. I think I'm going to write about the unifying effect of storytelling for my journal entry. These poems spanned thirty years and thousands of people, yet the stories--past legends giving strength, present experiences stirring emotions, future dreams offering hope . . . or shame--get repeated so often that the poems feel, well, repetitive. It's amazing when you think about it.
Teaching last semester was one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life--right up there with Italy--and also the most draining. My grad seminars, meanwhile, averaged into an overall "good," but one was much, much, much better than the other.
I came home for Christmas break and, aside from being beyond-words happy at seeing my family again, spent the first two weeks marveling at how everything within me felt . . . nothing, anymore. I was that tired. And then Christmas and New Year's happened, and so did something else that you probably know about but I still can't handle talking about yet. And now, here I am.
I'm toying with the idea of making this a protected blog; only people on a pre-approved list would be able to access it. Those of you without xanga would need to sign up and get xanga usernames, though you wouldn't have to use them for anything more than signing into my blog. Why do this? I've always tried to be discreet on here for my own safety and for the safety of those around me. But the longer I teach, the less comfortable I get with having even innocent things out here on the open Internet. My students and I are part of a class Facebook group, for example, but my students don't have access to my Facebook profile. It's not that I have anything bad on my profile, but I unbend there in a way that I don't want to cloud our student-teacher relationship. I'm wondering whether similar fears kept me from posting here sometimes on the (very rare) occasions last semester when I had a spare moment. Not only is there teaching to worry about, but there's also the often-freaky world of academic politics, which kind of reminds me of presidential politics in the way something said or done thoughtlessly can come back and attack you decades later when everyone but your enemies has forgotten it. In short, I'm afraid to say much of anything here, and what's the point of writing if you can't communicate?
So let me know what you think, whether through comments or email, and let me know if you would want to be on any protected posting list. I might also move to writing more of a mixed blog, with some posts protected and some open like this one. Or I could just change my mind in the morning and decide this was simply late-night paranoia.
I mean, it's not like I was even considering posting tonight at all--I'm still kind of surprised at myself and at this entry now staring me down from my computer screen.
Okay, I'd REALLY better get back to my journal entry. My academic one, that is. Good night, all, and maybe I'll see you again on here. Maybe it'll even be sometime soon. I do have two of these academic journal entries due every week from now until May. . .
Oh, and P.S.
"College publishes famed killer's diary" 
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