Let it Go: college magazines from 2004-2014 edition

Why is this still so hard?  I have about a decade's worth of my undergraduate college's magazines that it's difficult to throw away.  This reluctance makes no sense.  It's not as if I am going to read them.  It's not as if someone else needs them.  Recycling them so they can be something useful like toilet paper seems obviously preferable to having them lie around gathering dust.   

It's just that it feels so final, like another acknowledgement that I have given up my dream of teaching there.  As if, if I were to apply again, they would get up to the contract stage and then say, "Do you have all your alumni magazines?  Did you read them all cover to cover" and then when I said, "No," they would have to regretfully inform me that since I didn't keep the  magazines and now couldn't read them all cover to cover, they couldn't hire me.  As if my problems with them theologically and otherwise would even let me get to that point.   

Time to let go.  Maybe a symbolic, purposeful burning ceremony would be better, but I'm pretty sure my condo association has a rule against that.  To the recycling bin with ye!  May you be made into bicycles for the poor in other countries or toilet paper or printer paper or something else people will use.  Seriously.

Waspocalypse 2011 continues . . .

In case you didn't know, I've been suffering from a plague of wasps for a month and a half, and my nerves are rather frayed.  There's nothing like being tied to your computer, the only place you can grade stuff for your online course, while you are dodging and slaughtering wasps.  It's made it hard for me to post on my blog, even, sadly enough.  I've been avoiding home.

Any attempt at a relaxing day at home is a failure when you are forced to kill something.  I am bad at the killing.  I'm not referring to my wasp-slaying skills, though there has been definite improvement in this area by necessity.  I just can't handle killing and death very well.  Even if it's just a wasp, I feel sick inside that it has to die just so I can relax.

Why I should appreciate the wasps

• They keep me on my toes.
• They love art.
• They encourage me to work faster.
• They encourage me to get out more.

After my 5 wasps in 24 hours debacle and subsequent hysterical phone call to the apartment manager who had told me they had done everything they could, they called in an exterminator who looked a the exterior of the building and said, yep, it's sealed up tight with no way for wasps to get in.  He sprayed it to humor me. 

The next day I had a wasp. 

Today, I've killed one and been stalking another since noon.  It has ADHD and won't land where I can kill it.  I have neck strain as a result. 

Now it has another friend, and they're hanging out on my painting, which I am not going to smash them onto for all time.  They are laughing at me; I can tell. 

I really need this to stop. 

They're going to call wasp dude back and have him fumigate my apartment, which might actually be more likely to kill me than the wasps.  It's not an ideal solution because it could wreck my computer and my books and my couch and even my clothes, and if this misses any, then I will get to meet them in the spring.  I really don't think I can handle being afraid to come home and having to twitch at every noise not related to the regular domestic disturbances.

I have twitched over 50 times today when wasps hit or approached the window.  I was told by the maintenance guy that every time he's been up to look around, he hasn't seen any.  I really find that hard to believe, but he's not as twitchy as I am.  He's also slightly hard of hearing from power tool use, so he probably misses the meaty thunks and slightly stunned hovering I see and hear on the other side of the window on a bright, sunny day.

I will leave another note and the corpses, so when the wasp guy comes, he can see I am not making this up.  As if the smears on the window, walls, and ceiling marking their final resting places are not enough proof. 

So the main question is why do wasps like this apartment so much when they never have before?  I have come up with some possible ideas

• They are literary wasps.
• They are artistic wasps.
• They think I smell like common field pest bugs.
• They hate me.
• They enjoy seeing me hyperventilate.
• There is a game of Wasp Survivor going on in my walls, and the loser doesn't just get kicked out of the nest . . .

They say there's no nest and that there's no way for the wasps to get in from outside.  Tell that to the two wasps canoodling on the top of my painting right now and the corpse in the window groove.  Where are Holmes and Watson when I need them?

A poem from last week

The problem with opening
the curtains to let in the sunlight
is that I can see the smears
of dead wasp goo on the
shadows of the window glass
on the floor.

Goo isn't the most artistic word.  Anyone have a better suggestion?

When summer acts like fall

Two perfect fall days in a row in August so far as it tries to make up for the horror of July.  When summer acts like autumn, I have to resist the urge to go find a patch of grass under a tree and just lie there doing nothing for hours.

I can't do nothing yet because I'm still puttering in the new place.  All the books are unpacked and sorted.  My study area is set up.  The living room area is bearable and traversable (sp?).  Now I can also enter and exit the bathroom without contortions, and there's really just one last hurrah of a pile by the door that needs to somehow move out to the garage (super old files I need to keep but will not likely be accessing ever).  I may be completely unpacked by this weekend, which would be so glorious.

Just in time to start getting serious about planning for my class that starts the last week of August . . .  Don't worry; it's only a half class, so there shouldn't be any meltdowns this term.  Good times.

Looking forward to autumn,
TMIA

Flying high

Still a bit dizzy from the release of tension and a slight fever, I nevertheless considered yesterday a success.  I enjoyed the class I half-taught a lot.  Most of the class seemed to, as well.  I've gotten two emails from students who want to discuss it more!  Oh, it would be so fun to do a speculative fiction class at this school.  It would be a huge challenge, don't get me wrong, but the prep for the class was really thought-provoking and didn't ruin the book for me, so I think I could really enjoy putting such a class together.  Some day!

In other news, my plan to save money by not allowing myself to go to any of the Borders stores in my area that are closing  worked!  By the time I finished getting ready for my class and let myself take the time to go, they were all closed but one, and it was the first one I went to.  I'm glad they mentioned that they were the last "closing" store open, or I would have wasted a lot of time and gas money.  If self-control doesn't save the day (or wallet), sometimes laziness does.  :)

What I learned the day I visited the doctor's office

• Road rage is good for me.  It seems to get my blood pressure up to something more normal and lower my usually ridiculous heart rate.  Who knew my contrariness went that far.  Go figure.
• Book binges make my hip hurt, and I don't care.
• Despite all my problems, I am darn healthy for someone in my situation.
• Apparently, I strike the nurse as someone who would be a good teacher.  This makes me happy.