Jambalaya

I’m now twice as far into the semester as I was the last time I wrote. Things are still going well. I actually had a student come by during my office hours just to tell me how much she enjoys the class. She stuck around for a few minutes just to chit-chat. It is her first semester in college, and she told me that she’s really happy because all of her professors have been awesome, including me. (For the record, I’m not actually a professor.) Admittedly, it was nice to get such positive feedback. Without even knowing it, she reassured me that many of my desires for the class are being met, at least in one student’s eyes. She said she likes how much class discussion we have, and she says the class feels like a very safe place to share your views, etc. I was thrilled to have the feedback, as bizarre as it felt to receive it. I’ve never had a student show up just to tell me that he/she likes my class. It’s a strange thing.

So, teaching is going well, but I’m sick—again. It’s beginning to feel like I should blog about my health only when I’m not sick. As always, it seems to be a matter of the illness circling around within the family and never really leaving. I was just getting over a cold when the semester began. Then everyone else in my family got it. In fact, many of them are still coughing regularly. They’ve all been to the doctor and hooked up with prescription meds. Eddie, Peter, and Creegan all had ear infections. They thought Melanie might have bronchitis. I haven’t been as bad off as everybody else, but it hardly matters. When you’re a parent, it sucks to have sick kids. You feel depressed on their behalf, and your rest is only as good as their rest. As for my own physical condition, I’m tired of feeling a massive amount of pressure in my head and of constantly needing to blow my nose. Thankfully, I think we’re all finally heading out of this one. Let’s hope for a good two or three weeks before anything else strikes, shall we?

Quick complaint: the weather. It’s late September. You go outside at night, when it’s dark, after 9pm, and you walk from your doorstep to your car. Guess what? You’re sweating like a pig. I’d like to tell Florida to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine, but the blasted sun is always shining here!

I’m no further along on my dissertation than I was two weeks ago. Pity. I don’t often feel inspired to work on it, although I occasionally get into conversations with others about it and get kind of excited. I get excited as I talk about it mostly because I feel more and more convinced that I’m right and that I have something to say. But, man, it’s a lot easier to have something to say than to actually say it. It’s the latter that overwhelms me. Philosophy is a picky, picky thing. You have to be so careful and precise. It makes it exhausting. Yes, yes, that’s what makes it so brilliant and beautiful when it succeeds, I know, but trust me, you can be a lot sloppier writing for almost any other field. Sometimes I fantasize about being a psychologist instead. Or even a high school teacher. Shhh, don’t tell!

On a positive note, this is looking like a great night for TV. I’m excited to see the premiers of The Amazing Race and Sister Wives. And yes, I’m going to watch Pan Am. Melanie and I have been watching a bit more TV this season, and it’s been fun. I’m already ready to bail on a few of the new shows we’ve tried, but it’s been nice to do something different.

And that’s my life.