No school tomorrow!!!! Well, no classes tomorrow. Apparently the heat all over campus will be off, so faculty are expected to bundle up and attend, but students are allowed to go home. I'm saved by the weather because I was supposed to have an observation tomorrow from my department head. Whahahaha! No idea when that'll take place now, but at least it's not tomorrow. I'm all about procrastination.
I'm exhausted and without inspiration, so I leave you with a favorite quote until tomorrow:
I am afraid of writing, too, because when I write I am always moving toward the unarticulated, the dangerous, the place where the walls don't hold. I don't know what's there, but I'm pulled toward it. Is the wounded self the writing self? Is the writing self the answer to the wounded self? Perhaps that is more accurate. The wound is static, a given. The writing self is multiple and elastic, and it circles the wound. Over time, I have become more aware of the fact that I must try not to cover that speecheless, hurt core, that I must fight my dread of the mess and violence that are also there. I have to write the fear. The writing self is restless and searching, and it listens for voices. Where do they come from, these chatterers who talk to me before I fall asleep? My characters. I am making them and not making them, like people in my dreams. They discuss, fight, laugh, yell, and weep. I was very young when I first heard the story of the exorcism Jesus performs on a possessed man. When Jesus talks to the demon inside the man and asks for his name, the words he cries out both scared and thrilled me. The demon says, "My name is Legion." That is my name, too.
From A Plea for Eros: Essays, by Siri Hustvedt
I've posted this passage before, but I haven't read over it in a long time and thought about it today.