Projects

I feel like I sometimes neglect my children.  Do you feel that way?
Like I have babies in closets, and binders, and storage bins, scattered behind random emails on the internet. Some of them never even come into the world made of matter... they are electrical pulses stored... somewhere?

This trimester I tried to get my students to do a bunch of creative writing projects. We spent 1-2 days a week with writing prompts that they came up with and a couple days a week of things I wanted them to practice.  Some of them wrote brilliant stories, some wrote really heartfelt letters, some wrote rants daily. 
It was really nice for me to have some space even if it was just 20 minutes a few times a week to practice my own writing. I don't make a lot of room for practices like that and having the excuse or to some extent the responsibility to model writing has always been helpful to my own writing.  

I don't consider myself a particularly good writer, but I know I am capable of writing interesting ideas, and sometimes eliciting powerful feelings.  Some of these creative writing assignments felt complete when I was writing them, some could use some editing, and for the first time in my life I feel capable of doing that. Like patient enough with myself and my work, to recognize it could be helped (even by me).   

One of my long term goals is to publish (self publish) a book.
I don't think I am patient enough to write a book outright, but I think I could develop the patience to edit one out of my writings at some point.  If I don't, I hope someone else some day will. 
I'd like to see my babies grow into something, to know that they create relationships with people.  I'd like too leave behind that part of me, maybe polished up a little so that it seems significant. 



One of my coworkers texted me to ask if she could use me as a reference, which was a dumb ask, because of course, but it sort of sealed her transition away from my workplace.  About 20 minutes or less later, another coworker texted us that her husband got into the grad school he was looking at on the east coast.  Everyday I look at my students and wonder where they will be in just a few months time, because I wont be there to joke, to roll my eyes, to listen through their sobs, their joys, their bitterness.  I know everything ends, but I feel like I don't usually walk out on people... and this year I am recognizing that I do.  I walk away from good things. I walk away from good people, and I get no control over how they respond, and I will get no assurance that they are taken care of, and its driving me a little nuts every day to realize how not ok I am with this... and yet knowing I will do it anyway. 


School and work have kept me so busy at least that I don't have time to dwell on my assholishness. On the friends and family I neglect in my pursuit to accomplish my goals. 
I am this person, until I become the next person.