Wednesday, August 5, 2015

20150805.0652

As noted yesterday, work continues. I was able to read through the novel I will be writing up for the most recent freelance order. There are problems with it--many problems. Trouble is, I cannot dwell on them overly much in the write-up. "The book sells well, so people must be okay with it," I would be told if I did, "and so the reading guide won't sell well if you land on the book so hard." I have been told such things before, because I do have a tendency to find fault. But that I am certain I would be told such a thing with the current book, despite its problems, has worse implications at this point than at previous times. For the problems in the book are those of stereotypes, and for the book to sell as well as it presumably is (given the name on the front cover, I expect it is or is soon to be on the best-seller lists) reinforces the impression that the main current of popular culture in the United States is still at ease with stereotyping people, lumping them together into groups based on perceived associations that may well not be in place and discarding or denigrating whole populations based on such groupings.

I cannot address that particular point in the write-up, of course, and doubt I am in position to address it in a more formal paper; I am already far behind in my paper-writing, and I am not like to catch up anytime soon. Freelancing intrudes; it is not difficult, but it is time-consuming, and I can only remain awake and effective for so many hours at a time. Too, grading intrudes, and I have a stack of it to attend to today, what with it being the penultimate day of the summer bridge program (and, damn, but it has moved quickly). Again, the work is not difficult, but it takes time, and there is only so much time allotted to me each day. More, I cannot work, whether on grading or on The Work, while attending to Ms. 8; I am glad that she naps, because it is the only time I really have to get things done between coming home and the Mrs. coming home from work. So my time is curtailed yet further.

Still, I will get done what needs to get done. I have no other options, really; I cannot leave the work, and I certainly cannot neglect my daughter or the myriad domestic chores that seem always to need doing. I do get a bit tired, however, of feeling myself to always be in a rush, to always have to be at a dead run to even keep within seeing distance to the back of where I need to be. I am not exactly built for running, with heavy legs and a flabby belly; I am meant to stand in place and anchor others. It would be good to sometime reach a place where I can plant my feet firmly.

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