Windchimes

quicker trickle

No, the entry name will have nothing to do with what I write here, except now it does, doesn't it? I just like the way those two words sound together.

I'm just here, with nothing to write. I think I figured out why I like to write earlier this evening. As the family sat around the table before dinner, someone started a conversation. Someone said something, and I thought of something I wanted to tell that was related to what that someone said. However, I live amongst a crowd of talkers, and never could get my words in edgewise until the conversation had moved along to another topic. Now, I can't even remember who said whatever it was, nor what I wanted to inject. It probably wasn't important or interesting, except it was. To me, at that moment.

It's not just my family, either. We have a lot of friends who always have something to say, some story to tell, and I often find myself stymied when I try to respond or participate in the conversation in an active way, instead of being the designated listener.

Soooooo, another semester is finished. A total of .... I'm counting, wait a second.... nevermind, I don't want to think that hard. Not about anything that has to do with math anyway, especially while my husband's staring at me expectantly. He does that a lot. Sits there and watches me type. It's very unnerving. I was trying to count how many pages I'd written over the semester, but I'll settle for summing up the last two weeks or so. That would be 23, five of which were written in mangled German. He's gone to bed now, so I can count again.

Joseph, our son who lives and goes to school in Tennessee now, got home yesterday, just after I turned in the semester's last paper. It's great having him home, of course, but nothing's without its drawbacks, is it? The main drawback to this situation is the fact that the tv becomes a video game monitor. I don't get to sit on the couch and watch movies as much, and now that the semester's over, I could stand putting in some couch potato hours. However, watching someone play a video game is not anything at all what I had in mind. Doesn't matter though. I can stay up late. I can watch a movie tomorrow, I can watch a movie tonight. No more papers to write for a while.

Constance's friend, Eddie, just came in here and asked me if I was writing another paper. He found the idea hilarious, because yesterday, I was suffering the results of procrastination as I wrote my last one. My own fault. One of my professors had very clearly demonstrated how much better a paper comes together when you start on it about three weeks before it's due and work on it steadily over those three weeks. So here are all the excuses I won't express anywhere else. 1. There are three students in this household, and only one computer equipped with MS Word. We've all learned to fall back on the old fashioned pen and paper method, and whoever's paper is due next gets priority computer usage time. The only problem with the pen and paper method--no one just uses the computer as a word processor when they write. With the internet, it's also an invaluable research tool, especially as a university student. You can access so many literary journal articles from the university library website. The best way to handle that one--print out the articles you want to use, or think you want to use, and take them with you while you scribble on actual paper. I don't want to think about how quickly we go through an ink cartridge around here. Oh! There's another reference to my entry title.

OKay, procrastination excuse #2. This one sounds so egocentric. Really gauche of me to even think about it, much less mention it. But here goes. My uncle, my father's oldest brother, became fatally ill just in the last three weeks or so. He was 81 years old, so it's not totally surprising, but it has hit my dad pretty hard. He only has one sibling left now, he repeated that twice as we rode from the church to the cemetery. I've been worried about dad. But here's the gauche part. I kept wishing he would have held on at least until the semester was over, then I wished they hadn't scheduled the funeral when they did. Like all of that should revolve around my schedule.

All of this makes me question my priorities. I could have graduated this semester, if I'd stuck with just majoring in French. I could have a BA in French right now. Instead, I take these courses that make me feel obligated to push my brain through a sieve, so I can have a BA in French and English with a minor in German. I really love learning German, it's a fun language. I really love taking the English courses, they've taught me a lot about thinking analytically and arguing logically. But all of this takes a lot of time, energy, and mental focus. Is it doing anyone besides me any good? Is that a mandatory criteria in such decision making? To be honest, a lot of my motivation for continuing with German has to do with how much I love spending time around the German professors at our school, especially the one I had this semester. She's the fun, good kind of crazy. She does things like nudge my pencil as I'm writing responses to a quiz. She speaks French and passes on deliciously naughty French phrases every once in a while. She keeps me from taking life, or myself, too seriously. Besides all that, I only need two more German courses to have the minor, and I'm going to be there at least two more semesters finishing up the major in English, so why not? And why add the English major, aside from the benefits I just mentioned? I mean, I had no idea studying American and British literature was going to do that before I got started. Why did I decide to add English as a major, if I try to be honest with myself? At least part of the answer is, I think, a reading I went to when I took the one English course (besides the basic English courses all college students have to take) required for my French degree. The professor I had for practical criticism had just published a collection of short stories, and two other English department professors had just published poetry collections. All three of them read excerpts at a soiree held at the local book store, the one on the square (the oldest bookstore in the state of Georgia, by the way, in our little town). I'd read the collection of short stories, but knew nothing about these two poets. I did know, however, that I had to buy both collections by the time everyone finished reading. By that time, I'd already decided to minor in English, so I knew, when time came to sign up for the next semester's courses, I needed to take either American Lit, British Lit, or World Lit. One of the guys who read his poetry that evening was teaching a World lit class, and I signed up for it. Throughout the semester, he kept telling me I should be an English major. I thought it was because he liked reading my assignment responses, and I suppose he did, but still, as time goes by and I've spent a little more time around him, I've realized he's not just an English professor and a poet, he's a salesman. Anyway, he kept saying that, and I started thinking about how much that might improve my chances of being hired after graduation. French is not exactly very popular (especially since the Iraq thing...this is a very conservative area) or prevalent where I live. There's not exactly a high demand for French teachers, especially in the immediate area. Then, towards the end of that semester, my mother went to the hospital for what turned out to be the final time. Before she lost any ability to respond, I mentioned that my World lit professor kept telling me I should be an English major, and she widened her eyes, raised her eyebrows, and nodded as emphatically as she could with the oxygen apparatus strapped over her face. That wasn't the first time she'd indicated she wished I would show more interest in my native language. I signed up for a creative writing class that summer (with that same professor) and officially declared English as a second major before the fall semester started.

How did I get started on all that? My "topic sentence" was procrastination excuse #2. Ah, I see, I should have started a new paragraph at "All of this makes me question my priorities." There.

I suppose the next logical paragraph would be another procrastination excuse, but I think I've whined enough for the moment. I feel like I'm just here because my finger muscles can't get used to not having to do this now that the semester's over, and the rest of me wants to throw my thoughts out without worrying about style, clarity, thought organization, logic, and all the other necessary considerations inherent in the kind of writing one does for literature classes.

I think I've gotten it out of my system for the moment.

J.H. Larrew
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