Working on my Apocalyptic paper today, and getting to a point where I might be able to finish tomorrow. It's still a struggle: the way things are playing out with my recovery currently leaves me having trouble sitting here and typing for very long--hell, unable to do anything very long, it seems. Not working easily, not sleeping easily, it's all enough to drive you a bit bonkers. Still, some things are going nicely, particularly this week I got a new apartment, with the lease starting in June, that will allow me to move out of a studio apartment that feels like a storage closet and into a real home for the first time in three years. After paying my security deposit, even though I'd taken the apartment almost on a whim and for $120 more than I'd budgeted, I felt so ... free. It's a larger apartment than I've ever had, and I'm already happy to have a real space in my future. Otherwise, good times with Mike and Donna Harris, and Dan and Amy Lloyd this week, being sci-fi geeks over Enterprise and Battlestar Galactica, and just enjoying good conversation. And soaking in Coffey's Nouvelle Theologie discussions on grace, and looking at the scars of racism in Massingale's class I'm TAing for. There's a great book on childhood racial identity development I've been reading there called Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together In the Cafeteria? that I wish I'd read before or while I was teaching high school.
Urrrrg. And the most devastating conversation this week: one of my former students--one I love very deeply--telling me that she had been raped the other week. The grief for her and the sheer animal rage to find some sort of revenge for her is overwhelming. Unbelievable.