Où est mon cerveau?

I am very tired, literally to the soles of my feet. I spent an hour grading two student essays tonight and feel it is impossible to go on. This is bad news bears. I have 11 more of the hot little items on my desk, and ostensibly 8 coming in late by Friday at noon (god damn the procrastinatory cretins! Next term, no late work!). I worry that I'm losing my intelligence. This frightens me because I'd actually like to teach full time, and I'm generally a popular writing teacher. Nice but critical. But this term I have just enough sleep deprivation and stress, coupled with several highly intelligent smart-ass students, that I find myself having trouble keeping up. And I'm the woman who was reading Baudrillard and deciphering Benjamin a year ago!

Why did I leave graduate school? My new life of servitude is turning my critical faculties to mush.

I do wonder where my life is going to go. By day, display-setting, label-stickering, cynical retail babe. By night, by turns, political actress, college professor, bride to be (yes, there are actually activities associated with this position), and happy homemaker. Who really needs to clean the cat litter. Sigh.

I guess I'm just having one of those hopeless nights, where I know there is no end in sight to the pile of work I have left to do and I worry that I'm doing it all poorly. I hope that somewhere down the line--in a cushy chair in my community college or prep school office, perhaps--I'll be able to reflect on this period of my life with humor and relief. In the meantime, I should shower, clean the litter, and get my ass to bed. Tomorrow's another long day, and two essays ain't gonna cut it.