Even this year, when so many of my friends are apprehensive, and I am taking a class that my friends assure me will suck. (This is a class with a professor I've never experienced before.) But I don't care, I don't care. I love immersing myself in school.

And incidentally, it is very weird to introduce myself as a "second year student." Last year, the second year students seemed so entrenched and together and knowledgeable, whereas the first year students were mostly lost, dazed and confused. And this year, I am on the other end of that equation. It just doesn't seem like it's been a year. At all.

Today's class was with my favorite professor, the woman who they were fucking over at the end of last year. She's still leaving the college, but she's leaving in a year. Which means that I get to take two more classes with her. And I think she still gets her kickass severance package. So yay for us all.

Originally, this class was supposed to be something about the "lyric" poem, and the course description didn't do anything for me, so I wasn't all that jazzed. But now, it's going to be a poetry workshop, and I couldn't be more excited about the approach she's taking.

The first seven weeks or so, we're reading essays by various poets and writing poems that respond to those essays. (The very first one is Lorca's essay on duende that I've been trying to find, literally, for years.) I am so excited to finally be in a real workshop class. I've been longing for a class just like this.

(Oh, speaking of which, today was my workshop with the girls, Joey and Laurie. It was especially productive, and a great way to kick off the semester.)

So, back to the class. The second half of the class is something called immersion projects. We're supposed to immerse ourselves in the study of something, and then produce a manuscript relating to our immersion. The hook is, we're not studying poets or poetry. We're studying totally unrelated stuff-- whatever we want-- like painting, botany, jazz or bridges.

I was thinking of combining my immersion project with an escapade. So I could do pottery, maybe, or astronomy. Ooh, or photography. That would be great-- I just have to get this old camera fixed, and then convince my roommate to let me use her darkroom. I would love to finally learn darkroom photography.

Also during this class, we're supposed to be keeping a journal of our process. (Well, it's not required, just recommended.) As you may guess, I'm just going to incorporate that into my journal. My sidebar about "what I'm writing" will soon get a lot more extensive than, "a poem." And often, my babbling will make its way into the journal entries themselves.

Speaking of which, today we had our first lecture, a really interesting one about the term "meaning" and what it, well, means.

But what really hit home for me was when my professor was talking about what a manuscript is. Her definition was that it is a collection of poems that is unified by something, whether it's that they were all written at the same time, or they have some kind of subtle (or obvious) formal connection.

The reason this was so relevant was that I've been trying to put my first manuscript together, and having all kinds of issues.

Nels sent me some information for a manuscript contest. This thoughtful gesture put my ass in gear to put a manuscript together. But when the ms was done, I wasn't happy with it. In order to maintain a high standard of writing, I had to go back and put some fairly old poems in there, among all the new stuff. And they just stick out like sore thumbs to me, even though they're good.

I couldn't decide if I should go for stylistic unity or not, if I should group poems according to style or vary it, if I should include things like my sonnet sequence or not. Ultimately, I had to put everything in, because I just don't have enough material that lives up to my own standards. And it's not unified by anything at all. I couldn't put my finger on why I didn't like it, but after class, I realized that's it. Lack of unity.

So I am thinking that perhaps I'm not ready to put together a manuscript quite yet. I'm going to let it simmer, for another semester maybe, and see what else develops.

Do you realize I have to teach a class at ten in the morning on Mondays? And I have another class at ten in the morning on Fridays? This isn't the way my life is supposed to go. I'm supposed to sleep until noon every single goddamn day, and stay up until four in the morning, not get up and try and get across the Bay when it's barely light out. What is this "morning" business they're trying to inflict upon me?

Total amount of people who feel sorry for Monique at this moment: 0.

I also got a packet today for my own class. A class signup sheet, and a classroom assignment sheet, and so on. I was so excited, I squeaked. I have a list of six people who are theoretically students in my class. I have a syllabus and a reader.

Looks like, with a little luck, it's really going to happen for me. I'm going to be a real live teacher. I have an opening lecture half-planned, and I better get to planning the other half. Because as of next Monday, it's on.

And by the way, I'm terrified.

"TIM
You want me to give her the phone?
(to me)
Hey, she wants me to give you the phone.

ME
So give me the phone, then.

TIM
She says I should give you the phone.
(pause)
So, how's it going?"