on the prow of an imaginary ship, hair whipping in the wind
|fake album cover|
Friday was a good news day. I finished marking on Thursday night, as planned, if a little later than hoped, spent Friday morning double-checking my math, and then delivered the graded portfolios to campus for pick-up, my writing hand still cramped up from all the unfamiliar work. In future, were I to teach again, I might abstain from making detailed comments and suggestions unless such feedback were directly requested by a student. But it's what I had to offer, this time around, and it's done now.
Almost as soon as I'd finished that fairly enormous task, which has occupied a large part of my fall, all of the suppressed anxiety about final revisions for Girl Runner kicked in. I kid you not. The anxiety must have been sitting there just waiting to pop. I literally finished packaging up the portfolios and alphabetizing them (because I am nothing if not needlessly organized), and then texted Kevin with a "Help! What's happening to me?"-style of message.
|ooh, pretty colours|
|Pensive; also, Cold (note red nose)|
|Tired, yet Prepared for a Challenge?|
Anyway. So I went to CJ's feelings sheet, studied it for a moment, and texted Kevin back: Uh oh. It appears that I'm feeling Anxious.
|I will slay you with my sombreness|
|Serious writer face, with a hint of scorn?|
|Proud. Take that, reading public|
"That one's pretty," said Kevin, looking through my efforts last night (see photo at bottom of post). "It could work as an author photo."
|Calm; and possibly already had a drink?|
And on this abrupt note, I must declare: End of post. I'm late to meet the school bus!