Virginia Woolf was right

I am in the middle of my sixteen hour break between two classes that I teach. I get done teaching at 8:30, am usually home by 9:00 and try to be sleeping by 11:00 so I can get up no trouble at 7:00. All this so I can feed, wash, and dress myself by 9:00. Then I spend an hour with my teaching materials before I am out the door. After an hour commute, I am at school by 11:00 with another hour before I walk into the classroom. After I am done teaching and back home (another hour commute) I have four hours before I head back into the classroom for a three hour marathon class that meets once a week. Sometimes I think the Wednesday evening to Thursday night stretch is the worst but really my whole teaching schedule isn't fun.

I'm not complaining (I love teaching and I love the challenge of my job) but I teach four courses. Monday through Thursday I am booked solid. Mondays and Wednesdays I wake up at 8:00 so I can start working at 9:00. I usually try to take a break for a run at some point but otherwise I work from 9:00 to 5:00 (grading, reading, lesson-planning) before I actually step into a classroom at 5:30 (until 8:30). Tuesdays and Thursdays start out with a long one-way commute further in to McMansiontown. It makes for an odd schedule and it is a schedule that isn't frequented with "free time." I must also admit that a big chunk of the time I do have free is spent maintaining my budget and projecting it out over the weeks to come. If you divide out the money I make across the hours I actually spend working I make far less than minimum wage. Budgets can be scary. When strapped this tight they also lead to extraneous activities like applying for extra jobs (that I never seem to get). Add to this applications to PhD programs and professional development (article submissions and conference hopefulness) and I'm out. of. time.

"Free time" means thinking time. "Free time" means time to look at the world. "Free time" means time to write. I miss recording my thoughts on my blog and in my private journal. I miss spending time making notes for a future (dreamland) book of amusing yet thought-provoking essays. Writing is a privilege. Old Ginny had it right when she said that writing is the result of a well-nourished, generally supported mind. My mind doesn't feel that way these days. Most days I feel like I am at the bottom of a giant mound. My goal is the top of the mound but the mound is steep and ever time I start to climb it grows ten feet taller (this mound is obviously fed by a subduction zone). I keep plugging away but my brain gets tired.