fast car

The cars that fleet has given me to drive are Decidedly Unsexy.

A Malibu, a Taurus, an Impala. Ugh. All with wood trim in the interior and weirdo, checked patterns on the seats. Despite the urgings by rappers of what one can do to a lady in the "back of my Impala," I would never take a woman to the backseat of an Impala.

A 1972 Ford Galaxie 500? Now, that's another story.

It is pretty Sexy not to have to pay for your own gasoline, though.

I haven't been sleeping well lately--looping dreams that never go where I want them to. In my dreams, I stutter and blush just as much as I do in real life. My fortune cookie told me tonight, "You will have a magnetic personality." I wonder, "when?"

I wake up nearly an hour before the alarm. I've never been one to whom sleep comes easy. And this house. All sorts of groans and movement from the basement. House noises are new to me--I've never lived in a real house before. Just trailers and apartments. The noise isn't unsettling to me; I just wake up to them, and have to think for a minute, Oh yes. I live here now. These are the sounds real walls and a concrete basement make. I have to remind myself, this is a good thing.

My nerves, I guess. This is my first full week teaching my 3 hour classes. They went well yesterday and today. Today, especially, I enjoyed my students and their wilingness to open up to me and the class. I told my students that I am the person who goes to WaldenBooks at midnight to get her copy of the 6th Harry Potter book, and they told me that they've won 2nd-grade spelling bees, love it when their young daughters read books to them, and play guitar and write music.

Cool people. I am excited to read their work this semester.

I am writing now like I dream--never going where I want to.

I better just stick to grading papers tonight.