When I got hired to teach in another state for the summer, I thought, "Great. Now I won't go completely insane this summer, as I have for the last three."
Something about Tuscaloosa in the summer makes my brain come unscrewed. In '04, I adopted a sleeping schedule of 10am-4pm daily. I thought I was going insane, but nothing worked to get me on a more average schedule. In retrospect, I think, duh. Of course I was nocturnal. It was my first summer in Tuscaloosa. I also kept my apartment spotless at all times, probably because I had nothing else to do. I haven't gotten back to that standard since, and I probably only will if I win the lottery.
Another fond memory that seems to encapsulate summer in the Tusc: One day I was wearing some very uncomfortable heels. I was exhausted. I got out of my car and decided to walk barefoot, and that it would probably be uncomfortable to walk on the hot sidewalk. So I stepped into the grass that led to my apartment, only to feel the bottoms of my feet stung all over by--????--I had no idea. Whatever they were, they were stuck, and if I walked on the sidwalk, it would just hurt more. So I ran to my apartment, collecting more stingers in my feet with each step, and bolted inside so I could get off my feet. Apparently, those little white "flowers" on top of the grass are sharp and meant to be painful for anyone/thing who steps on them. Thus my aversion to walking barefoot in the South, specifically, at Hackberry Place.
Usually the insanity does not begin until late June/early July. But this summer it is here already (exhibit A: this blog); I suspect because I have to pack all my belongings, sell my old car, plan for a lengthy road trip, say goodbye to friends, and work on finding a long-term job all in the next 2.5 weeks.
On the plus side, my thesis was cleared by the graduate school. No corrections necessary! A reputable literary journal showed interest in publishing one of my stories if I am willing to do some editing (this is the closest I have ever come to publication) and I am looking at six boxes of newly-packed books. So there is progress despite the insanity.
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Dear Ask Rachel,
What is the best way to braid your own hair so that the braid doesn't disintegrate over the course of an evening leaving you with a hazy recollection of looking a little like a startled lion and forcing your friends, who are clearly older sisters of some experience, to rebraid it for you while you mumble at the table? Are there hair care products I could use? What about drinking less?
Sarah
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