Plans and the inevitable

What do they say about draining the swamp filled with alligators? It's the southern version of the best-laid plans of mice and men.

It's the end of the fourth week of classes, and if it weren't for me having some free time as I hold office hours for my English 202 class here in Blue State Coffee, I wouldn't have had the time to open up the laptop and ramble here like I am. Nobody's showed up but me who is required to. I imagine a few emails are forthcoming this week, and we'll deal with last-minute problems that way.

Last semester, the second week, my back went ka-plooey and so did my leg. And I worked hours and hours and more hours backstage in the theater. Even though I have a bigger load this semester, I figured I'd still have plenty of time to get my work done if I didn't waste time and still have time for a life. Ha!

But this semester no one told me I was going to get sick with a cold/flu/plague that I'm still recovering from. No one told me Sue would get sick, too. No one told me what teaching was like, or the amount of work it takes. (What was I thinking?--it is a job, after all.) I planned on getting in shape for cycling in the spring with a spin class every Saturday. I hoped to have at least one meal a week at home with the kids, to talk and catch up and just feel like family if only for a few hours. I planned on sending my plays out and getting some relationships going with theaters so when (what an optimistic statement!) I graduate. Hell, I even thought I'd have the time to play some music with friends maybe every week or so. The amount of work that has to get done is monstrous, and the self-induced pressure to excel seems to triple the workload.

So, the best thing to do, as always, is scrap the plans. Plans and rules were made for breaking, right? If things don't work out the way you plan them, just go with it and see where it takes you. So you don't end up where you plan. You always end up somewhere.