This afternoon I’m too tired to keep my head up off my desk, but fortunately I can type this way — forehead on a box of pencils while arms outstretched pound at the chicklet keyed keyboard and (presumably) find themselves on the screen. Accurately?
I was about to finish a few other things, but should just go home to recharge. Today they measured charges and counted electrons. They also plotted some graphs and thought about second derivatives and first derivatives and all the relationships derived and what they meant. So no wonder we’re all tired.
Yesterday had similar accomplishments, but the notable things about yesterday were the events that took place in between class events:
- In the morning I installed and ran Windows on a Mac, the two operating systems side-by-side with one another. It was creepy and it felt wrong, but it worked. It even served a purpose.
- At lunch got us tickets for Brandi Carlile. I would have easily paid twice what I did for the tickets. This is not only because I love her (Karyn understands), but because she loves me, as is clearly demonstrated on this autographed copy of a CD she gave me. Okay, I bought the CD and she was gracious enough to sign it. But I swear, she looked up at me, smiled, and then placed the heart on the cover. With a Sharpie.
- After the day’s workshop/class/death-march, I checked email to learn that my summer program has a donation from a foundation for next summer. This is great news because I haven’t even had a chance to worry about anything besides this summer. Stress avoided (except for the part about now really being obligated to continue to offer the program, but that’s a fate I’ve accepted and embrace).
- And then I checked my voicemail. “You have [strange pause in electronic recording] one [another pause] new message,” she (very small lady who lives in my phone) tells me. She went on to tell me it was “90 [pause] seconds” and then prompted me to listen to the message. Oh holy Christ, I think when bracing myself for a 90 second message. Generally speaking, 20 seconds is a really good message length, unless it’s from a good friend with a voice I don’t remember I’ve missed. But 90 seconds is usually from a student or administrator who should have only used 20 seconds, and I was bracing myself because I wasn’t in the mood. Much to my delight and surprise, however, it was the Poet Laureate of Oregon, calling me up out of the blue to tell me that my messages had gotten through to him, and as he chuckled heartily he explained that he doesn’t use email and the online form to contact his office doesn’t make it to him. My personal visit to the Oregon Humanities Council had now paid off: he was genuinely happy to be invited to and participate in the conference. Calling him back I found that he was not only happy to play with us, but he was exactly the person and poet that we were hoping for. This sudden news came after months of trying to track him down.
No moral; no connections; no story arc. Just a bunch of completely non-sequitur events that were each unlikely and each good.