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January 20th, 2006

weird wyrd wiered

I sit at my desk in my office on the Centennial Campus of North Carolina State University in the city of Raleigh, capital of the state of North Carolina, one of the original thirteen colonies of the United States, which sticks out into the Atlantic Ocean and invites hurricanes to come on down every Autumn, and I am exhausted. I can't figure out why. I've been getting enough sleep. It's still the beginning of the semester, so I really haven't done a whole lot of teaching yet. My desk job at CTE is not taxing. What the hell is it?

I didn't feel all that hot yesterday, but there was nothing like this amount of tiredness. Have I been doing too much? Am I getting sick? What? Damn you, body, tell me.

Strangely, my writing improves when I am this exhausted. I don't know if it's because my brain is in a slightly altered state, or whether the lack of oxygen removes the blocks that my internal editor normally throws in my way, or what. Some of my best writing has been done right after waking up, when I'm still muzzy-headed.

Class this morning was a bit frustrating. Almost everyone who's signed up was in attendance, and there were a few guys screwing around and not paying attention, and making me stop what I was talking about to tell them to stop screwing around and pay attention. I'm going to give them a choice on Monday: to shut their mouths, turn off their cell phones, and listen up, or to get out. It's a business writing class, and everyone in there needs the class to graduate; if a small group is being disruptive, it hurts the whole class.

This afternoon's class helped take the sting out of the morning. We talked about Dr. King's "I Have a Dream" speech and discussed techniques that were used to make it as effective as it is. I also read aloud an essay by Arundhati Roy called "When The Saints Go Marching Out" (from her book An Ordinary Person's Guide to Empire), and we talked about that as well. The students were attentive and participated in the discussion, though only half of the total enrolled were there.

Last night, Janet and I went to Quail Ridge to listen to Lyle Estill talk about biofuels and read from his book Biodiesel Power. It was really interesting hearing about alternative fuels and replacements for petroleum. When I have to get a new car (after the Mirage dies, though it's only nine years old now), I'm strongly going to consider going with diesel.

Go read "Who Put the Bomp?" (written by nihilistic_kid and gadarene) at John Scalzi's Whatever blog. Alone they are formidable; together they will rule the world! Er, or at least write some damn good fiction.

I got tagged by carnwrite for that "weird habits" meme going around, so here goes.

The Rules: The first player of this game starts with the topic "five weird habits" and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don't forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says "You have been tagged" (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.

So, right, five weird habits.
  1. I set the alarm clock for fourteen minutes before I want to wake up. When it first goes off, I hit snooze, then roll over so that I'm facing away from it. The second time, I hit snooze, but remain facing it. The third time, I turn off the alarm and get out of bed.

  2. Before going to bed each night, I need to check that both doors (front and back) are locked and the chains drawn. If I don't, I get extremely antsy and can't get to sleep until I check.

  3. When I write at Cup A Joe, I sit in the exact same seat every time. It's one of those things that tricks my brain into going, "Oh, I suppose it's time to write then, eh?" If I don't sit there, I can get work done, but it's not nearly as good.

  4. I need to know that I have access to a book at all times, so that if I ever get stuck somewhere, I have something to read. Most of the time, I carry a book in my knapsack or (if the book is small enough) in the pocket of my jacket.

  5. I can wear the same pair of pants for a week straight, but I can't wear the same underwear or socks two times in a row.
And you know, I'm not going to tag anyone. If you want to do the meme, do it. If not, don't.

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