Preparing for January

I am still on vacation, and I am attempting to do nothing related to composition, the PhD program, or official identity stuff at all. Hmmm. What is a boy to do?

I have been cleaning and organizing papers and books and cds and dvds the past couple days. It is obvious that I am in love with texts. Media. I love them. But I think the true vehicle of my passion is the photocopy machine. Nearly tied with the Xerox is the laser printer.

As I have cleaned things out, I have found stacks of handouts for my classes, print outs for lesson plans, articles that interested me at some point three years ago, and an endless sheaf of aborted Greg-authored texts. Hoo boy. Someone, please, help me organize my writing!

Perhaps most stunning is that I have been oblivious as to just how reliant, how dependent I am upon the laser printer and Xerox. Honestly, I should construct an altar or pen an ode to their value. Really. I have little idea on how I could have completed my professional identify without either of them. And when I think about my pops typing up his PhD on a MANUAL typewriter with CARBON PAPER, I shudder. Shudder.

So, in the New Year, I promise to be more vocally grateful for digital reproduction devices.

In the mean time, I have used this organizational time to clear shelf space for my PhD work. In order to clean space, that means I must pitch stuff. Pitching stuff means that I must make mental room for doctoral work and toss a bunch of semi-aborted projects which have collected but retain near-dead emotional energy. You know, that short story outline which is gasping for life but will never see the light of day, the seven successful steps for student success book outline that will never get past the write-up, the modestly written guide to effective thrift store shopping that, somehow, could never get past page four. Yeah. All that stuff has to go. Filed, stashed, and cut off.

I cannot speak for others, but I am emotionally involved and connected to my texts. Stacks of old work means stacks of old emo-memories. Instead of letting them go fallow and slowly die, I'm putting them out of their misery. My PhD needs my attention and energy.

It's time to cut bait. Funny thing is this: I feel so much better now that I have done this. And I feel revitalized!