nothing to say
I really don't have much to say but feel like I should check in on the ol' blog. So maybe I'll just start and see what comes out.
This weekend I went to Pueblo for a conference of writing center tutors. A girl from CSU who is a social work student working in the WC there said that when she asks students a question and they respond with, "I dunno," her follow-up question is this: "Well, if you DID know, what would you say?"
At church I like the windows. We're in the old auditorium of the old junior high school, and the arched windows are blocked out with some sort of paper or fabric, only the covering has come off several of the windows, giving the whole space the feeling of being shuttered, sunlight streaming in randomly, the sense that light will find its way, that all is not dark. And that a bulldozer may arrive at any moment to begin the demolition, too.
I am really hating the grading thing right now. Maybe because it forces me to know what I want or expect from others, which seems like a helluva a lot to ask of me. Maybe because it forces me to justify my preferences, when I'm starting to feel that nothing of my self matters, that none of it can be justified. Maybe because I expect others to know what I want from them, and they don't. You wouldn't think that a set of instructions for knitting a potholder would cause me an identity crisis, but there it is.
The song that's playing in my head right now:
I just don't know what to do with myself
Planning everything for two
Doing everything with you
And now that we're through
I just don't know what to do.
- the white stripes
This weekend I went to Pueblo for a conference of writing center tutors. A girl from CSU who is a social work student working in the WC there said that when she asks students a question and they respond with, "I dunno," her follow-up question is this: "Well, if you DID know, what would you say?"
At church I like the windows. We're in the old auditorium of the old junior high school, and the arched windows are blocked out with some sort of paper or fabric, only the covering has come off several of the windows, giving the whole space the feeling of being shuttered, sunlight streaming in randomly, the sense that light will find its way, that all is not dark. And that a bulldozer may arrive at any moment to begin the demolition, too.
I am really hating the grading thing right now. Maybe because it forces me to know what I want or expect from others, which seems like a helluva a lot to ask of me. Maybe because it forces me to justify my preferences, when I'm starting to feel that nothing of my self matters, that none of it can be justified. Maybe because I expect others to know what I want from them, and they don't. You wouldn't think that a set of instructions for knitting a potholder would cause me an identity crisis, but there it is.
The song that's playing in my head right now:
I just don't know what to do with myself
Planning everything for two
Doing everything with you
And now that we're through
I just don't know what to do.
- the white stripes
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