Professor J's Place

Last month, my dear friend Bluebird  asked me to read some of my poetry on an evening celebrating national poetry month. I was glad that I could say I was just too sick to participate. That should have been a red flag for me. Then, my sweet friend scoured the web to find my poetry. Last night, she asked me where I keep my poetry. And I told her the truth. I have no idea where the bulk of my poetry is. I knew I had kept folders in my computers over the years, and I knew I had several printed out. But I didn't know where any of it was. Why? I'm afraid of it. I'm ashamed of it. This morning, I finally found a few of the poems I had printed out -- ten or twelve of them. Some of them feel unfinished. Some of them are self-indulgent. Some are just no good. But a few of them are good. And I wonder what would have happened if I had continued writing regularly. Oh, I still occasionally sit down to write a poem--when nothing but a poem will do. But I have stifled my voice....

617 N. St. Mary's Ave Yesterday, the wonderful Joy Harjo posted this on Facebook: Yesterday I hosted my fears. I allowed them to eat everything in the house, fart and burp and take over the tv control. When I finally saw them for who they were, I told them to get out. They blew into nothing, disappeared. Joy Harjo . Today, my wonderful friend Bluebird posted this on her blog: Before you start climbing down that first hill, I want you to halt, sit down and listen. I know you have jobs/responsibilities/children/health issues/money problems and I know that you aren’t sure what to do next/are feeling as though you’re shirking your “real” responsibilities/are hitting that point where self-doubt has got you by the neck and is asking you, with stinky cheese breath— “How DARE you?” And you’re tired. And you don’t know where this leads. And it was more work than you thought it would be. And you don’t know if your stuff is any good. Bluebird...

Okay. I love the photo I have for my new header--it's a statue on the grounds of the McNay Art Institute. Unfortunately, it's a lie. I am not feeling at all spiritual and centered these days. Let's just think of it as a positive affirmation, shall we? I am calm. I am centered. I am in touch with my divine nature. Please send chocolate.

I saw this display at the gas station this afternoon, and I thought, "What an intersting idea, a roll of paper for writing notes--Neat!" No comment.

Okay, this is not my official picture for the Ass Project this week--I'll post new pics as soon as Susan gets home from work and snaps them for me. However, this is a picture of my posterior that was taken on the great art festival of St. Susan's day (last Saturday), so it is recent. I plan to have a weekly photo of me in my workout clothes -- sorry, I just am not brave enough for the granny panties. Here is my plan: I will exercise at least five days a week. I will do strength training three days a week and do cardio everyday (though I will feel free to take off one or two days a week). I've been exercising this summer, but I haven't been working on my diet. So, although Mrs. G's program does not include diet, I believe I will try to cut back on the fats and on bread. Here's the weekly update: On Monday, I met with my trainer Adrian. (Yo.) I did 15 minutes on the elliptical machine, and then we did a good deal of lifting and other exercises for a total of a ...

Albert Hofmann is dead. (Not to be confused with Abbie Hoffman , who died almost twenty years ago and was a frequent user of the drug Dr. Hofmann created.) Albert Hofmann is the Swiss chemist who created LSD. It has been some time since the days of the "spirituality" of drug use has been a hot topic. Most of the men who championed that idea are dead. What is it about human consciousness that we seek to alter it? Why do we enjoy a distorted reality? And we do. Even if the hardest drug we ever ingest is gin. I think that self awareness makes us want to understand how the brain works--we'd like to take it apart like a legos creation and figure out what happens if we put it together differently . More than that, Hofmann believed that LSD would help us become aware that we are one with the universe--that all creation is connected. LSD, he thought, should be used a spiritual ritual. Of course, Hofmann hoped for more than a drug that would help people commune with nature. He had...

I am still struggling through the end of the semester. For those of you who don't know, let me tell you what an idiot I really am. I teach composition full time (four sections) at our local satellite school. I also teach composition and literature part time (two sections) for an adult degree completion program at a local private university. Last summer, I took on a section of World Literature online, as well. Yes, my fellow university people, I had seven sections--two full time jobs plus. Well, this term, a fellow teacher was unable to fulfill his commitment to the online classes he was assigned, and we didn't know until two weeks into the term. So when my dean contacted me in desperation, what was I to say? I do know the word no. I just don't seem to be able to say it. So now, I'm teaching 9 sections, which a normal school would call three full time schedules. And most of those sections (7) are composition. Are you getting a sense of my idiocy yet? Of course, I'm n...

Today before class I went to the cafeteria for a sugar free, fat free, flavor reduced smoothie. "Would you like a booster with that?" "Yes. Vodka." It's been a long morning.

I stole this from Gina at Ginaagain. What kind of dog are you? I'm a Labrador Retriever! Just a bit of trivia. In my profile on Match dot com, I said that I was a Labrador Retriever with a good vocabulary. I guess I'm not the only one who thinks so.

I was reading one of my favorite blogs the other day, and I was struck by my friend BipolarLawyerCook's list of things to do in life. One of the "things" was "Look for something beautiful everyday." I thought that she was so right--it is essential that we remember that the world is a wonderful place and we celebrate beauty wherever we see it. This isn't too hard for me to do on a regular basis. I live in a beautiful home in a beautiful city; I live with two beautiful women, two beautiful dogs, a beautiful cat. I live a life I love, and I am surrounded by art--Susan's and other people's. What's not to find beautiful? But sometimes I get a special treat. Susan goes to sleep later than I. Of course, she gets up some two hours after I do, but she also seems to be able to get by on much less sleep than I require. Anyway, I often get up at five and she has done lovely things. She'll have cleaned the kitchen, or posted on her blog, or, on specia...

Dateline: San Antonio I get on to the elevator this morning with a striking blond woman of, say, 35-50 years of age. We smile shyly. She makes eye contact and says--not, "what do you teach?" --or even, "lousy weather we're having, isn't it?" She says, "I am having the damnedest time getting used to my bifocals." Oh yeah. Conversation in the elevators has changed. I'm old.

The lovely Anne, over at Almost Quintessence has asked a question about the pups. And since she doesn't have an email address listed on her profile (What's up with that, Anne?), I'll just inflict share my answer with all of my sweet readers. The beautiful dog pictured above is Alice. She is a Walker Coon Hound , or a Walker Fox Hound, or simply a Walker Hound. She does, indeed look like a beagle--on stilts. She bays like a beagle, too. She is a sweet, gentle girl, unless you happen to be a cat or a raccoon. Alice adopted me. Several years ago on a Thanksgiving afternoon, my mother and I took our dogs to a park on the south side of San Antonio. It is a great park with a big field where we would let the girls run while Mom and I walked the path surrounding it. Because the park is in an area just south of town and the neighborhood is wooded, there are several stray dogs running about. On our way back to the car, we saw this lovely animal standing in the middle of the road. Ma...

I lived with my mother for the last twelve years of her life. During that time, she nursed me through a bone graft, and I nursed her through colon cancer, a broken wrist, two broken ankles, emphysema , and two separate iterations of lung cancer. And, of course, I was with her when she died. It was an important time for me in many ways. I got the opportunity to forgive my mother for being mentally ill, for drinking too much, and for being, well, not the best mother in the world to us three girls. I got the gift of seeing Mama as a human being who just didn ’t have what it took to be the mom we wanted her to be. I remember watching her with her beloved cat one day. Kitty was sitting next to Mama on the couch, and Mama was patting the cat on the head. It was the best she could do. And the cat? The cat acted like someone was giving her a sensual massage. I realized then that Mama’s affection and support for us over the years, as limited as it seemed, was all she had to give. As we grew clo...

While my day time students find themselves stuck with the usual final exams, my evening students--who are adult returning students--get the special treatment. Our final exams are always at a local restaraunt featuring really good margaritas. This is the life!

mama milton: restless hair syndrome I start this post with a nod to Mama Milton, who got me thinking. Hair is one of the principle means of self expression for women (and, to a lesser degree, men) in our society. We color, cut, tease, perm, straighten, process, glue, and spray it into submission. We adorn ourselves with hair. When it changes color or texture or it thins or we lose it, we begin to panic. When we want to change our lives or make a statement, the first thing we change is our hair. Hairdressers even have a name for it. "Post Break-up hair." I have had me some hair dos. 1990 2003 2005 I like to think of myself as a simple woman with simple tastes, but I have been known to go crazy on my hair. Thankfully, I don't have any pictures on my computer of me with a perm , but I once even had poodle hair. Hey! It was the eighties and everyone was doing it! I would have had big glasses, too, if I wore glasses in those days. I even shaved my head in the nineties. What ...

Here's a meme I got from Organic Mama . It's fun, even if it has an inconsistent point of view. 110. My middle name is: Jean 109. I was born in: Jackson, Mississippi 108. I am really: silly 107. My phone is: a hot pink razr 106. My eye color is: green or blue or some combination 105. My favorite colors are: green, blue, red, orange 104. My ring size is: huge 103. My height is: 5 foot 1 102. I am allergic to: shell fish 101. I was born on: December 20 100. I am annoyed by: stupidity and bad grammar 99. Last book you read: How to Re-Imagine the World: a pocket guide for practical visionaries by Anthony Weston 98. My bed is…queen sized, dressed in red 97. One thing you hate about yourself: irritability 96. My favorite holiday is: Thanksgiving 95. The perfect kiss is: soft, sweet, long 94. The last three CDs I bought were: James Taylor, The Weepies, Paul Simon (but this is over a couple of years—I mostly buy individual songs off of I Tunes) 93. Are you living at home: my own 92....

This post could be subtitled, "Giving in to peer pressure." O.K. there has been no pressure, but I see all the cool kids playing, and I feel a little left out. What is all the fuss about? Mrs. G., over at Derfwad Manor , has invited all of her bloggy friends to post a list of their favorite things. So here goes. 1. Folk music. I love all sorts of music, but my latest favorite, and the accompaniment to every evening meal at my house is The Weepies . Aren't they sweet? I just wish they'd release a new album! 2. 3. Dinah Alice Joel 4. The Guadalupe River (Though Susan will ask if it is the Frio) 5. Coffee. O.K. , there should be something in the cup, but what can I say? I drank it. 6. Poetry. Especially Emily Dickinson 7. Sweet people. Grandmother and Momma Morgan and Susan

Early this morning, I had one of those teacher dreams. I was in my Algebra II classroom, it was the final weeks of the semester, as it is now, and I was utterly unprepared. After a few minutes of winging it and going over the homework, I decided to let my class go early. Normally, that is cause for student celebration. But today there was an angry student who complained that he had learned NOTHING all semester. This was not surprising to me as I am an ENGLISH teacher who never took a math beyond the required Algebra I and remembers nothing of it beyond the abject terror and her temptation to offer sexual favors to her teacher in exchange for a passing grade (thank God that wasn't necessary--he was not an attractive soul, poor man). Anyway, I apologized to the poor student who only wanted to learn something, and I awakened in a cold sweat two minutes before my alarm went off. Ah, November; it makes a teacher want . . . . . . some encouragement.

Yea! I've been tagged by It's My Life! For some odd reason, this has been a difficult post to write--I guess I feel that I'm an "open book" and everybody already knows all they need to know about me. The idea is to post seven random facts about my life and to tag other bloggers to ask them to do the same. So here goes: 1) I worked for a summer as a nude model for life drawing courses. It was good money, but it got a little creepy after awhile. 2) Two years later, I worked for a summer as a short order cook at the Grand Canyon in Arizona. It is amazing to get to see the canyon every day; I plan to return one day. 3) I met my partner through match dot com; hers was the first profile I read, and I knew that I wanted to get to know this person. 4) I love raspberries more than any fruit. 5) I play the guitar (poorly). 6)I dream about getting an RV and traveling from national park to national park. 7) I have one friend who calls me "Kitten" and one who...

This morning on my way out the door, I noticed that there was an empty rum bottle awaiting a trip to the recycling (which gets picked up on Monday). So I grabbed the bottle and walked to the curb just in time to be passed by a school bus. Stay in school, kids, and work hard! You, too may be able to drink lots of rum! Arrg. I wonder, am I the only person who is embarrassed by her recycling bin? I wonder if the garbage men really care. . .