An August Challenge: Be Beautiful

So, I feel I need to start with an apology. I'm a horrible blogger. To be fair, I knew this about myself. I have commitment issues when it comes to non-academic, non-deadline writing. Quite frankly, I'd usually rather be knitting. Or reading. Or cooking. Or just not writing. But despite my self-proclaimed issues with blogging, I feel compelled to make a go of it (despite a two month hiatus).

So here I am on the far end of summer, and ruminating on what has happened in the last few months and what is looming in the not-so-distant future (Coming soon: The Return of the Grad School Menace).  While I hope in the days to come to give an update on the goings of the summer and what's to come as I start my doctoral studies in the fall, today's post is about something else entirely. As the title suggests, it's a bit of a challenge.

Lately (read: this summer), I've been feeling a little less than stellar about myself, particularly physically. It's not necessarily always about weight (though I will be the first to admit I'm not going to be on the cover of Vogue any time this century), but rather a more general discontent with my appearance on a scarily regular basis. One day I'm convinced my clothes make me look like a blind, frumpy, school teacher. The next, my hair makes me look like a boy. A week from that I'm bloated and resemble photographs of beached whales. My makeup feels wrong. I see scars where I used to see skin. I just generally have been feeling unimpressive and sometimes downright ugly.

It came to a head in particular this past weekend when I spent a weekend trying to find pantyhose in mall department stores (none had one large enough that wasn't "tummy control and shape enhancing") to wear with a dress I had to get in a plus size so the bust would fit. I spent evenings and many meals with people who were obsessed with talking about foods they couldn't/wouldn't eat because of carbs/calories/macros*/fat/sugars that would be damaging to their perfectly healthy, thin, fit bodies and all of the different trendy exercises they do daily at the gym while I ate my food and tried to ignore the number of mysteriously evil, fat inducing things it contained. I felt like a cow. It was awful.

Now while this post is not meant to be a pity party, that weekend was shaping up to be one. I was feeling pretty self-loathing about my appearance and then feeling self-loathing about obsessing so much about my physical appearance. So today, I'm putting my foot down. Enough is enough. I'm am a self-declared feminist who prides herself on knowing that self-worth has nothing to do with size, weight, clothing, makeup, etc. I address emails and text messages to most of my friends "Hey Beautiful" and end conversations with "See you Gorgeous" believing women don't ever hear enough how valuable and truly lovely they are without such compliments being attached to specific physical attributes. But when it comes to myself I am a shameless hypocrite.

So I'm taking on a challenge. For the month of August, I'm going to Instagram a picture a day that makes me feel beautiful. Shameless selfies. Accomplishments. Small moments. Anything that reminds me that I am a beautiful person, even if I fail to see it sometimes. It isn't about being self-centered or vain. It's about accepting that beauty does not have to be limited to a single viewpoint. Beauty is self-defined. And I can be beautiful.

I invite you to take up the challenge as well. Every day for the month of August, I invite you to post a picture of your beauty (a selfie, an object, a location, an event; if you can justify it, you can post it). With the hashtag #bebeautiful and let's choose to define beauty under our own terms. Who's with me?
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*Don't ask me what they are. I just know they apparently cause you to get fat. Apparently so does everything else.

Back from the Brink of Insanity

As promised, I am back from the academic madness that is finals week, and, as promised, I have a Master's degree to show for it! I graduated from my program last Sunday with a Master's degree in English and American literature and some pretty epic dark circles. The ceremony itself was pretty typical for college graduations, LONG. The "academic apparel" was stereotypically tacky and polyester. The whole shindig was fairly expected. But I can't help but admit that I was proud of it. I did it. It has been a rough two years. But I did it. I now get to write a fancy M.A. at the end of my name. I could leave academia and get a cushy adjunct job (ahem). I am a respected graduate.....But seriously, it was pretty cool to know that I managed to pull it off. I had my moment of basking in the moment, and now it's back to the real world.

Next fall I'm starting my PhD, but in the meantime, I'm spending this summer working full time selling comfort shoes and doing absolutely unacademic things. This means knitting, reading, baking, spinning, watching movies, sleeping, and generally having a normal 9-5 job. It's going to be glorious. I love academia. I love what I do. But sometimes a break is nice. So lately, I have been knitting up a storm and making some progress in a new novel.

The knitting is mainly socks. I'm feeling small projects lately since I had to rip out my Bubbly Personality Cardigan since it was 4 inches too big. Socks it is then. At least the ripping out for mistakes it far less depressing. The latest pair has been endearingly termed Atomic Watermelon Socks thanks to the amazingly bright colorway. I'm in love. The pooling is crazy, but these socks are so vibrant they practically glow in the dark. They're about 3/4 of the way finished, and I'm already plotting to buy more from this dyer.

As for the novel, I'm reviving my niche interest in Jewish literature with Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, a novel set in the golden age of comic books with fantastic development, depth, and interest. I'm hooked. It's not dumbed down, so I still feel like I'm engaged for more than entertainment, but I generally find it fun to read. It's a nice change from Ulysses that was certainly more work than play. Overall, it's shaping up to be a good read and a pretty great summer.

Who doesn't love a baby sweater?

Just popping in to show a picture of the baby sweater I just finished:

 

Seriously, how CUTE is that? The pattern is the Little Coffee Bean Cardigan. I knit it up in KP Brava Worsted leftovers from the sweaters I knit for my parents. It's set to be shipped out this week and the baby is due in 6 weeks.

Missing In Action

Sorry I've been a bit absent of late. When I started this blog, too well aware of my own commitment issues, I vowed to write once a week. Then last week happened. And this week. And, well, the blog didn't. But I'm back now and have decided to give a sort of random overview of life, excitement, goings on, etc. So I give you a random list of occurrences:

1.  In knitting news, my sister's mitts are done and she loves them (and the length). They ended up being almost to the elbow, super squishy, and totally two different shades of blue/black. I also finished by husband's escalator socks, which he loves. Still not sure how I feel about the KP Stroll Tweed. It seems a bit "floppy" for a sock yarn. But it is very soft and he likes them (though mentioned that the can only wear them once before washing because they stretch out more than his other socks). I also am working more on my Bubbly Personality Cardigan (no pictures, as it is still just a really long strip of stockinette right now). I'm about a quarter finished with some plain stockinette socks in Felici (sadly discontinued; get it while you can), and have finished a baby sweater for a friend (pictures to follow). Moral of the story, I have been a knitting machine. This probably has a lot to do with the fact that I have tons of school stuff to do that I am avoiding. 

Stuck Pot Rice with Yogurt and Lemon

2.  In cooking news (because knitting isn't quite enough avoidance on its own), I've made two great recipes that you should take a look at. The first is Rustic Tortellini Soup, which is amazing and warm and wonderful. I add more liquid to it so that it is a bit more soup and a bit less stew, but it is one of my go-to recipes. I also made the smitten kitchen's Stuck Pot Rice with Lentils. LOVED it. I think I will add more onions next time (personal preference), but it has been my meal for the last two days. Total win.

3.  I find it odd that now that Lent is over and I no longer have to limit my meat intake, I start cooking vegetarian. Ironic?

4.  Easter with family is great, but not productive. I spent two days with my family eating, playing cards, laughing, eating, cooking, eating, dying eggs, eating. My sister, husband, and I had our annual Easter Egg Show-Off competition (I think I won). I lost miserably at cards. And I got absolutely no reading or grading done. Worth it? Absolutely.

5.  The research, writing, reading, etc. that didn't get done is still waiting for me, and will likely make the blog late this coming week too. I have two big papers due in the next week and am in intensive research mode (as I take time to sit down and blog instead of reading). Joyce is occupying my life. Daniel Defoe haunts my dreams. I will soon be moving into the library and establishing squatter's rights.

6.  I do not foresee more time coming my way in the near future. This is disheartening.

In the mean time, I'm going to try to squeeze a blog post in when I can in the next few weeks, but if I start fading, bear with me. I will resurface after graduation (Master's degree in hand) and resume our normally scheduled program. 

Knitting and Other Weird Things People Do In Public

I am a knitter. This means that I basically want to spend every free moment playing with sticks and string. It means I treat waiting rooms, long lines, and delays as opportunities rather than annoyances. It means I am magic and can create wonder and wooly goodness using the bare minimum of raw materials. To me, knitting is practically a super power. It defeats boredom, it creates wonder and amazement, and it is generative in ways so many other hobbies are not. Knitting is bad ass.

With all of the awesomeness, however, being a knitter also makes me weird, unabashed, and old-fashioned. Especially because I frequently knit in public. The hype surrounding knitting in public has always seemed odd to me, and for the most part I have ignored it all and knit anyway. Daily life is full of knitting opportunities--queues, waiting rooms, coffee shops, car rides. It never occurred to me that it would be weird for me to try to use my time productively. Even as a new knitter I was willing and enthusiastic about whipping out my work at every opportunity.

Despite my own willingness to bring my knitting out in public and my confidence (read: obliviousness) while doing so, I have still incurred some strange looks and comments. Apparently knitting in public is strange. People aren't supposed to do it. A part of me is okay with that. Generally I accept that I'm going to be weird and I'm going to knit. But recently, I had a colleague ridicule me for knitting during a conference presentation and it got me thinking; people do far stranger things in public. Things that are far more intrusive, offensive, distracting, etc. For example...

• Making phone calls. It just fosters some weird kind of voyeurism and no one really wants to hear all about your personal business.
• Taking selfies. Just plain awkward.
• Changing babies diapers. Public exposure. Fecal matter. How is this not something people think twice about?
• Breastfeeding. Not remotely meant as an insult. I have absolutely no problem with public breastfeeding. But it is certainly more distracting than knitting.
• Mouthing lyrics to an iPod. Just makes you look crazy. That music you're enthralled with? No one else can hear it.
• Making out. Again with the voyeurism. And the swapping of bodily fluids. And the grossness.

Me working on my husband's Elevator Sock at school.

So really, in the end, I don't think knitting is that weird. It's virtually silent. It doesn't take up space. It doesn't require me to expose myself or invade on anyone's public space. It doesn't make me unapproachable or self-absorbed (at least not if the number of people who approach me when I'm knitting means anything). Quite frankly it is one of the more normal things that a person can do in public. So I knit in public and slowly the people I see everyday have stopped staring. My knitting, at least, is starting to normalize. I have just become that one weird instructor who knits in the coffee shop in the mornings. Personally, I see this new apathy as progress.

If you are interested in helping to normalize knitting (and maybe gain some converts), I recommend you take part of World Wide Knit in Public Day. It's awesome, it's widespread, and it is a great way to meet other knitters who aren't afraid of being "weird" if it means they get to play with sticks and string whenever they want.

A Bad Case of the Mondays

So I wrote an entire blog post and then accidentally deleted it instead of posting it. Because that is the level of brain engagement I am currently functioning at. This last weekend/morning have been a little strange. I've been feeling a bit off. Not necessarily bad. Just not quite right. I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that everything right now seems in flux, and like it isn't supposed to be. People keep asking me how school is going, and I keep replying in the same way. "Great! Everything is going great!" (cue overly enthusiastic thumbs up and smile). And it's true. If you were to objectively look at it, things are going pretty great.

I'm about to finish my Master's. I got accepted to a good PhD program for the fall with funding. I like both of my classes and professors this semester. I have research topics and a plan for the research on my final papers. I am, for the most part, caught up on my teaching. Everything seems to be going well. I can't complain.

The only problem is, none of it is finished. It's a lot of in-progress kind of stuff. The Master's degree, while virtually a given at this point (I would have to go brain dead to not pass this semester) is still a month away. I have stuff to do before then in order to earn the degree. The PhD program is another to-do list of things that need to get completed. Exciting, lovely things that I am looking forward to, but really the acceptance letter is  as much another task as it is an accomplishment. And as for this semester, everything is in the progress stage. I have topics. Great. Lovely. That has yet to translate into "I have a draft." That needs to happen. Soon. The problem is not so much that I'm not being productive. Stuff is getting done. It is more that all of the projects are long-term things. They take time. So while everything is "great" everything is also "unfinished." And that can get a bit frustrating as the days continue to fly by.

Knit All the Things

So I'm currently in the throws of a mini-flare of my Rheumatoid Arthritis. I was diagnosed with RA when I was 15, and for the most part I'm fine and fully functioning. But every once and a while it rears its ugly head and I'm left puffy and sore with limited mobility and pain that makes me crave morphine. That's where I am now. I've spent the last few nights lying in bed, unable to go to sleep, contemplating how valuable my legs are really. Couldn't I just saw them off? Wouldn't that be better? Unfortunately, my husband insists that legs are important, so I've been finding other methods of coping with the pain.

My main coping strategy? Knitting EVERYTHING. I am craving wool and needles like they are a life-saving drug. I dream about socks and sweaters. I fantasize about new yarn. I try to sneak my projects into conversation and have been thinking if there are ways I can work and knit at the same time (so far, that's a no). It's become an obsession, but it's helping me not to focus on the pain in my joints and instead focus on something productive, soft, fluffy, and beautiful. It's a great distraction and a much cheaper pain killer than most.

Right now the focus of my knitting energy is a pair of socks and some mitts for my sister. The socks are a pattern of my own (improvised broken rib) with a sock heel I helped to test knit back when I was still in college. I just finished the heels last night and I really loved the method. I will say, I think I need to have my husband re-trace my foot. The method asks you to try your socks on over a cardboard cut-out foot and knit till a mark that indicates your heel hinge. I did that. But these are a smidge on the long side. I also think I would decrease the depth of the heel (a little more than 1/3 of the heel stitches left unworked), but that is definitely a personal fit problem. Overall, if you're a knitter, I recommend the Fish Lips Kiss Heel pattern. Be aware that it is densely written (one of the less clear patterns I've used), but the method is easy to memorize and works really well. It's worth wading through the text. As for my own socks, I'm hoping to have them finished by the end of the week.

I'm also fervently working on some mitts for my sister in Dream in Color Classy in the colorway Peacock Shadow. For the most part they are going well. Relatively simple, big needles (for when the RA reaches my fingers), great stitch definition. The only problem I'm having is with the color. No, it's not the light. The right one is that much darker. It has a lot more of the black variegation in it than the left mitt. I'm knitting two-at-a-time from both ends of the ball and apparently one end is much darker than the other. I'm going to keep going. It doesn't bother me that much. And if it bothers my sister, I'll just keep them for myself! :)

And of course, even though I have two perfectly  satisfying and lovely patterns on the go with nice yarn and a good amount of detail, I'm still lusting after other projects. I have a sweater's worth of Knit Picks Wool of the Andes that is dying to be made into an Effervescence Cardigan (aren't those "bubbles" FANTASTIC!?), some Gloss fingering that wants to be a Traveling Woman Shawl. And some Stroll Tweed that is destined for some Escalator Socks for my husband. Can you tell I got some Knit Picks gift cards for Christmas?

Still despite this desire to knit all the things, I'm forcing myself to hold back until at least one of my other projects is finished. Right now I''m obsessed with all of these patterns. But I suspect this has a lot to do with my pain levels. When my hips and knees stop working, I want knitting to keep me busy. And I have to hope that this flare is on the downward slope. So I'm waiting on these dream knits for better days when they aren't motivated by Vicodin and inflammation. In the meantime, I'll be on the couch finishing some socks.

10 Things I Have Learned as an English Grad Student

In May, I will finish my Master's degree in English Literature and get ready to start my PhD in the fall. It has been quite the experience to say the least. Don't get me wrong, in general I'm very glad I'm doing this. I feel blessed to have such great opportunities, I generally like my classes, I like teaching (and the steady paycheck)...but grad school isn't always a sunny place. In fact, sometimes grad school is a dungeon packed with over-educated vampire bats who want to suck your blood out through your eyeballs and call is "deconstructionism." And sometimes the lessons you learn in that dungeon are less "To thine own self be true" and more "Run. Just run." And since I've never been one for romanticizing reality, here are 10 valuable lessons I've learned in grad school thus far...

1. Better education does not equal better person.
This shouldn't be something I have to explain, but it's such a rampant assumption among a lot of the people I have met. Even if no one says it out loud, there is often this feeling that we all think we're better than our less educated family members or the staff at our universities. Somehow, we've all been taught that having an MA or a PhD makes us better people, more worthy of attention. Truth is that often it is just the opposite. I've watched departments fall apart when the less educated secretary had to leave.  It became painfully clear how little the "academics" really knew when the secretary wasn't there to take care of the practical side of things. Academics are good at some things, but that doesn't make them the best at everything.

2. Everyone is hiding a knowledge gap.
Professionally speaking, I'm a modernist. At least that's what I put on my PhD applications. And there are certain assumptions that go with being a modernist. You're supposed to idolize Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot. You should be able to quote "The Wasteland" in everyday conversation. You should have read enough stream of consciousness that your dreams are starting to sound like an episode in Ulysses. Given these facts, it is hardly surprising how insecure I am about my own knowledge gaps and how hard I try to cover them up from everyone around me. For example, I have never finished anything by Virginia Woolf. Nothing. Not a single novel. Don't get me wrong. I can talk about Mrs. Dalloway in conversations and fake my way through seminar discussions, but the truth is that it is a major hole in my expected knowledge. This deficiency has freaked me out since my undergrad, but recently when studying for my MA exam, I discovered that most of my colleagues have similar holes (like the Americanist who has never read Huckleberry Finn). Truth is, everyone has knowledge gaps that they are hiding. No one has read everything they talk about.

3. The jerks don't go away; they just get smarter.
I have never been popular, and frankly grad school has been no different. But somehow that isn't what I expected. In my mind, grad school was a placed where enlightened people went to discuss literature with like-minded souls over tea and cookies. They were all well-behaved, polite, friendly people with great taste in books. In truth, grad students are just like everyday people. Flawed. Ignorant. And frequently cruel. I've watched colleagues verbally attack each other (passive aggressively of course) about their accomplishments. I've watched people say horribly racist, sexist, and prejudiced things all in the name of a "joke." I've watched people gossip and throw each under the bus in staff meetings and get-togethers to improve their own sense of self-worth. The only difference between the jerks you know in grad school and the ones you knew in high school is that the ones in grad school can insult you and quote Derrida in the same sentence.

4. Coffee is god-like, but is not in fact a substitute for sleep. 

This is perhaps the saddest lesson thus far. I am a night owl. But I often teach in the morning. Unfortunately, It turns out that staying up till 3 AM and getting up at 6 AM do not mix well. I'm embarrassed how long it took for me to learn this, and I blame my slowness on coffee. For weeks, I was convinced I could make it through my weird sleep schedule and 8 AM class by overdosing on caffeine. In the end, I was just a caffeine addict, strung out on espresso, who couldn't keep her eyes open during lectures. Thanks to that semester, I have a caffeine tolerance that scares even me.

5. Grad school is a job. Anyone who says otherwise has never tried it.
As part of my financial aid, I teach freshman English classes for my university. I then take a full load of classes for my own degree that are usually heavy on reading and research in addition to the in-class time. I hold office hours and do all my own grading, lesson planning, and curriculum development. I  am generally expected to attend conferences, speakers, discussions, and meetings. And then I work a second job on the side that I do full time during the summers when I'm not teaching classes. My work week far exceeds 40 hours and there is not a single day that I can remember that I didn't take work home from both teaching and my own classes. Yes, I get that "normal" jobs are hard too. But that doesn't make what I do any less difficult. And trust me when I say I don't get paid very well for it.

6. Everyone feels guilty for doing perfectly normal, unacademic things.
I just got back from spring break and a 5 day trip to visit my in-laws and my family. Upon returning, I found myself buried in work that naturally didn't get done when I was surrounded with people who love me and don't see me often at all. In the days following spring break, I kicked myself for not simply holing up in a bomb shelter for all of break and furiously working on all of my coursework. I resented my in-laws for insisting on taking my husband and I out to dinner. I cursed the new yarn I bought (and knit) on our trip in Minnesota. I was annoyed that I had "wasted" so much time driving to and watching my little sister's junior recital and having dinner with my parents and grandparents. In essence, I felt guilty for seeing my family and for taking a few days to leave academia. Guilty enough to shame myself into 4 hours of sleep a night until I finished all of my work. This shouldn't have surprised me, really. I have have felt similar guilt over spending my fall break last year getting married; wasting several hours a week doing pointless activities like laundry, dishes, and vacuuming; and taking precious research time out of my weekend to watch an episode of Doctor Who with my husband. Honestly, how dare I call myself a graduate student with these kinds of priorities?

7. Everything you ever did or said as an undergrad was idiotic.
When walking around campus, I find myself surrounded by herds of bubbly, carefree undergrads bustling to their quaint classes with perfectly manicured nails, stylish recently-purchased outfits, and expensive headphones. As a few of these same undergrads gather in my classroom before I teach, I listen to conversations about their "insane" amount of homework and their elaborate weekend plans. I resent them. No. Worse. I envy them. Now rationally I know that being and undergrad is no picnic. It is work and often a lot of it. Often they are just as sleep deprived as I am and have no better sense of financial stability than I do. And, even if they do, I chose to come to grad school, deprive myself of sleep and sanity, and spend my time working as an underpaid TA. Nonetheless, as I watch undergrads mill around the campus, as I respond to emails asking if there is an "alternative assignment" that is less work, as I overhear conversations complaining about pop quizzes scheduled the day after St. Patrick's Day, I can't help but wonder was I really that bad? The answer is yes. And probably worse.

8. Non-academic friends and family will never understand what you do. And eventually you will stop trying to explain it.
I love my family. They are remarkably supportive, loving, and kind people. They are not, however, academics. Honestly, it's one of their better qualities. It is fantastic to spend holidays with people who have no idea who Lacan is and can't spell hegemony let alone explain it in terms of post-colonial fiction. Nonetheless, my family wants to know what I do. When I'm stressing about the Master's Exam and filling out PhD applications, they ask questions about what the test is on and how universities choose who to accept (one well-meaning relative asked me why the University of Minnesota rejected me. Wish I knew, buddy. Wish I knew). At first I tried to answer those questions in detail, to help them to understand and have a better sense of my work. But eventually, I realized that the specifics didn't matter and trying to explain cultural theory and the myth of nationalism was not worth the effort when I could just say, "I want to study the World Wars." Sure, it's not the same thing. Not even close. But it makes sense. It doesn't create more questions than it answers. And it isn't a complete lie. I'd say that's a win.

9. Spring break is a lie. So is "summer."
Some of my undergrad friends lament about missing summer vacation and spring break. They have told me how nice it must be to still have summers off. I usually smile and nod, pretending that I don't want to drop the Norton Anthology of Literary Criticism on their heads. The truth is grad school doesn't have breaks. As I've noted, I teach during the school year as payment for my tuition bill. I also take classes. This means that when breaks come along, I not only have my own work to complete (which inevitably, I will have fallen behind on in the weeks leading up to break), but I will also need to grade and lesson plan for the courses I teach. As for summer, as a Master's student, I was expected to take courses all summer to complete my degree. Most of the PhD canidates I know spend their summers researching, writing papers for conferences, drafting, attending PhD bootcamps (the prospect alone terrifies me), and taking courses as well. Summer is not a time for relaxing. It is a time to be a student. And conveniently, the stipend I recieve for teaching during the school year does not apply during the summer months. So I am taking classes, reading, and researching while working 40 hours a week at a retail job. Last summer my "days off" were the days that I only had to go to school and not pull double duty between class and work. I'd like to know where all of those "summers" I was supposed to have off went to. I'd like to cash in on a few, please.

10. "Reading for fun"is a pipe dream.
I study literature, so you would assume that I spend a lot of time reading. And I do. A LOT of time. But I rarely get to read something for myself. My Goodreads shelve are populated with anthologies of literature, of classic novels that never crossed my mind before graduate school, and of my course syllabi. I have mountains of "fun" books in my apartment that I haven't touched in at least 4 years, since I've been spending all of my time reading for classes and filling in my knowledge gaps before people find them. If a book was written in the last 20 years, odds are I've never heard of it, but I can quote poetry from the 1850s like it's going out of style. Indeed one of the great ironies of studying literature is that it prevents you from just reading. I know graduate students who fantasize about leaving academia and spending months and months reading trashy novels for sheer pleasure. I have no such delusions of grandeur. I've accepted that the time for fun reading is over. This is work.

Again, don't let my cynicism fool you. I love what I do. I appreciate the opportunities I have been given. Most days I even like graduate school. But I'm also a realist. It isn't an easy life of sunshine and daisies. And sometimes vocalizing how much a lot of it sucks can help you to better appreciate the parts that don't. So here's to learning hard lessons.

It'll happen on Sunday...

Saturdays are the most devious days in my life. They always come upon me with the illusion of productivity. 24 hours to do everything that needs to get done. Time to sleep in, do homework, clean the apartment, bake cookies, knit a sweater, cook dinner, and still have time at the end to watch a movie with the husband. It's an idealized reality that I dream of all week. It gets me through Mondays when I have a whole week of work ahead. It gets me through Wednesdays when lesson planning, grading, and my own research are racing towards their Friday deadlines.

But come Saturday morning (okay, let's be honest...afternoon) when I manage to roll out of bed, I have to remind myself that I am not the person I dream of being on Mondays. I don't have any desire to get anything done on Saturday. After all, Sundays are for productivity, right? Everything can get done on Sunday. Clearly Sunday will actually have 24 hours in which I can work (reminder: Sunday is the idealized reality I dream about on Saturday. It is also a lie). This is what I think about at 3 in the afternoon when I am still in my pajamas, the dishes are still "drying" on the counter (like they have been since Wednesday), and my homework and grading have yet to be touched. Sunday. On Sunday, everything will get done.

The work that has to get done today. Three articles on "Cyclops" (one of the trippier episodes in James Joyce's Ulysses) and at least one more cable repeat on my sister's Twisted Twilight Mitts. But let's be real here. I'm totally watching Harry Potter and pretending that there are still 12 productive hours left in today.