Fragments From Floyd

...makes Jack a dull boy. (The recent incarnation of this old bromide is that it makes Jack fat. Yeah, that too.)

This morning, for the first time in more than a month, I don't feel oppressed by responsibility to this new classroom opportunity that was visited upon me in late July and began with chalk in hand on August 25. This past week, the struggle up the curve of learning what and who and where things were got noticeably easier.

I found my stride in the classroom: how to coordinate the slides and my notes; how to get the AV set up while talking with four students simultaneously. I found a comfortable compromise between passively sitting in place and pacing, pointing and acting out the discussion. My watch alarm is set for five minutes before the end of class, so I don't run out of time before wrapping up the day's lecture, and so there is some time for after-class housekeeping. I only left my CD in the drive once. So far.

I no longer fumble with the three identical keys at a locked door--always a conspicuous mark of a clumsy newcomer. The faintly inscribed __X key is for mail, __25 for office, __28 for labs. Got it now.

My "regular" parking place I have discovered out of necessity is beyond the boundary of aggressively sought spots near campus; I'm just fine with walking--I wasn't doing well with "nature red in tooth and claw" in the parking lot before work every day.

After enduring the awful ergonomic asymmetries of carrying a 25# attache case in one or the other hand the first week, I've settled on my old North Face day pack toted on both shoulders, even if it is now, like most everything else that goes to school with me, gaining a patina of dusty white, the color of chalk.

This weekend, I have somewhat of a respite from class prep with a test coming up on Monday, all ready to go and next week's lab a continuation of the past week's. But this is the eye of the storm, I realize, and there is a lot of work ahead, not three weeks into a 13 week semester.

And even though this morning, the pressure is palpably less than it has been, I don't seem to be able to ease back into the writing rhythm, can't fully relax and find the flow of feeling and belonging I had when I stayed in place during most days. Every day there's an expedition to another land.

I used to talk about "work toxins." I wouldn't use such a negative descriptor for those concerns and demands that block my writer's mind now. But there is some turbulence in the stream of things in the being away, in leaving and returning, in changing hats so often.

This new-old kind of work is just starting to be fun again. But I haven't yet found the balance between the two ways of living, the two centers of importance. I have hope that it will come. I miss visiting everyone's blog and feel out of community, in a sense. It surprises me that I still have a few visitors and it preys on me that Jack has been a dull boy of late. Dull, but not lazy. Many good things are happening. The next month promises to be the fullest in my life in a long time. I'll do my best to give you vignettes, and hopefully more word and pixel images as I learn to keep the plates spinning. Life is full. Fall is coming. And I intend to play again!