20160106.0632

Work continues, of course. I find myself scrambling to put together materials for my courses, which begin next week. The first two days of classes are accounted for; given the schedules I am facing, the second day of class will be the last day in which all four of those I am teaching will be aligned. (One section is on a two-day schedule; the other three are on a three-day.) I suppose I am about to plunge into another headlong rush, but that is as I should expect it to be; my line of work is what it is, after all, and after as long in it as I have been, I ought to know that the teaching term is a pressing series of weeks. Not that things get easier between terms; all that happens is the work changes form.

Not only do I have classes at two institutions to handle, I have my own research to do--and freelancing demands attention, as well. I have a gap in that at the moment, which is to the good, but I also know the gap will not be long. The money freelancing brings in is entirely too attractive for me to leave alone for long; it is an addictive quantity. (I would say the access to resources it affords is addictive, but I know that the truth is that the money itself is the compulsory thing. I am acculturated as I am, and even if I might try to fight it, I rely to a great extent on the system that compels the constant search for money. I do not have the luxury of extricating myself from it, not if I want to do the work I do--and I do want to do that work.)

Attending to my family also demands attention--and rightly. Ms. 8 was somewhat problematic yesterday, waking in a foul mood and venting that mood repeatedly during the day. Some such venting took the form of screaming, as it does. Some took the form of playing slap-daddy, which occasioned a pointed response from her unwilling playmate. Some took the form of bite-daddy, which also occasioned a pointed response from her unwilling playmate. I know that matters will ease in time. I simply hope to have a face and arms yet when they do, as well as intact genitals--since Ms. 8 manages to kick, slap, or headbutt them daily or more. (I gather she does not want siblings.)

I suppose there are things to be said against my writing the kind of writing I write in this webspace. I suppose many will read it as whiny--"Suck it up" comes to mind as a likely response, as does "Back in my day, we didn't complain." But I do not think that "sucking it up" (which requires sucking; am I being told I should suck? Then why complain if I do?) has helped people, and "back in the day" was a good time only for people whom I and many of those for whom I care are not. Why would I want to go back to that?