I am a rock. I am an island.

I am not Simon nor Garfunkel, but I am without internet at mi casa!

Our land line is out, and our DSL with it.

Our provider promises it should be up and running by... Monday.

Perhaps these people don't realize that when I work from home, the internets is my only connection to the outside world! Without it, I go crazy...

I also take naps. Accidentally, for thirty minutes today. I was trying to read about the history of science fiction and suddenly I was awake! And thirty minutes of my day were missing! It was like a moment out of science fiction. Only without shiny gadgets and a unitard.

* * *

As far as The Status of Things (read: my dissertation), dare I say that Things are going well?

I am afraid to say that, for fear of jinxing myself or inviting myself to be the butt of some horrific cosmic joke, but...

* My sanity seems to be intact. (I am not ripping out my hair and eating it. Anymore.)
* My chapters seem to be written. (I am still revising, but mostly cosmetically.)
* People on my dissertation committee seem to be using the words "clear" and "well written" when talking to me about a chapter. A chapter that I wrote. (I know, it's mind-boggling. That is why I blink and stare at them blankly before I remember to smile and nod.)
* It seems that I might actually be close to finishing.

What I'm saying here is that I need to write 5 or 6 pages and call it a coda or an afterword or some other elitist name for a conclusion.

And then.

It. Is. Written.

Now there I've gone and jinxed myself.

* * *

New Moon!

After much deliberation via Facebook, four of my girlfriends and I bought our tickets in advance for a showing on Saturday night. We plan to arrive at the theatre en masse and giggling like junior high girls. After the showing, we will retire to a posh cocktail lounge where we will engage in a scholarly discussion of the film, as would reflect our intellectual pursuits. In other words, we're going to grab a beer and argue over whether vampires or werewolves are hotter with their shirts off.

* * *

What follow are two fictional scenes. Any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental.

* * *

Scene: A college classroom, class has been dismissed. Instructor erases dry-erase board and students gather their books and exit. A female student rushes to the front of the room, seems rather frantic, somewhat crazy.

Student: (loudly) I need to talk to you about my assignment!

Instructor: (in a friendly, patient tone that does not belie the irritation she actually feels) OK.

Student: I guess I will wait until more people leave. I had some personal issues this weekend.

Instructor: (less friendly) Um, OK.

All students exit but Student #1 and a slouchy male student.

Student #2: (shuffles to front of room)

Instructor: Do you have a question for me too?

Student #2: Uh, I forgot my assignment.

Instructor: OK. Bring it Monday.

Student #2 shuffles out of room.

Student #1: (seems bewildered) Oh, well, I wanted to talk to you about the same thing, but I guess you don't need to hear my excuse?

Instructor: No. (with relief) No. I do not. I am actually not at all interested in your excuse. Just bring the assignment on Monday.

* * *

Scene: College classroom. Overachieving, grade-grubbing students are in their desks. We enter this scene mid-way through conversation in which students who got a poor grade on previous assignment are pretending to have been confused about the parameters and expectations of the assignment--which were clearly spelled out in class.

Student #1: (whiny and petulant) But I don't understand... what do you want on this assignment?

Instructor: (slightly exasperated) Look, this assignment is not about what I want. This has nothing to do with what I want. If you were writing what I want to be reading, you would all be handing in celebrity gossip magazines and I would be reading US Weekly.

Pause. Silence.

Instructor: (cheerfully) Now let's talk about what skills this assignment requires you to demonstrate.

* * *

I love to teach. But I really love when the semester is over, too. This one is so close I can taste it.