October 9, 2008

Late night after a very long day. Snarled at a student. She is self-delighted and uncorrectable in a writing workshop, where such attitude must be set aside. Though I’ve been able to jolly over it till now, today’s notion that all her mistakes were intentional–and therefore not mistakes– was over the line. Why waste our time? I too have entered classes to be praised rather than corrected, but when the inevitable disappointment came, I had at least the presence of mind to suffer in silence.

Roof not finished. Roofers invisible.

Ken and John did not come to measure the windows, though at least their check is still taped to the door.

Return to voice lessons. Frogged my way through Vaughn Williams and Mahler.

Good rehearsal at church, and a happy session at Usual Suspects afterward. I was, though, beyond exhaustion into that exhaustion-sickness which you think is something worse until you lie down on the bed.