December and Tolerance for Ambiguity

Last night I taught my last American Poetry class at Montclair State.  I brought some homemade chocolate chip cookies for my students, and we discussed Terrance Hayes's book Lighthead.  We should have perhaps discussed this book a bit earlier, before everyone was so end-of-semester tired.  But I think the class was a success, overall.  (One student said, "What degree do I need to get to be you?"  Oh, gosh.  Who knows.)  I still have to go pick up take-home finals next week. 

Here I am about to take New Jersey Transit, my nose looking like the full moon.  But that's just poetry. 

Currently, the radiators in our duplex are not working, except for the one in my office/spare room.  Luckily, this is the most artsy room in the house, and the one where I like to think about book manuscripts and collaborative projects.

There's a lot of art in this picture, if you know how to see it.  (For example, the throw on the bed was one of my birthday presents, and it was made on 100 year-old looms in Maine.  I'm not even kidding.)  But we are hoping the radiators get fixed today. 

In other news, I've been watching Dr. Who before bed, and I've also started watching Downton Abbey.  Clif and I watch Dr. Who together, but Downton Abbey makes him fall asleep, so I watch that alone.  But I enjoy that, too.

And now that my post-doc at Fordham is over, I'm on the job market for professorships.  If I don't get one for next year, I'll be a freelancer.  Like the Doctor.  My mother says I "get high marks for tolerance for ambiguity."  Yes, I've become good at that. 



Also, Merry Christmas!  I'm liking the idea of Christmas decorations this year, but still lacking the follow-through.  I want some of those old-fashioned lights with the big bulbs.  Do you think they sell them at the Ace Hardware down the street?