The World Is Full.

Another tightly scheduled day -- still advising week, presented "response to the strategic goals" to the broad faculty, facilitated the scheduling nightmare of five speeches at one time, playwriting workshops, four advising sessions all peppered by questions from faculty assistants, faculty senate, entertained a blow-through visit from Uncle Ken and Aunt Nan, put the kids to bed then returned to Malone to work out, and tried to solve Joe S's advising crisis. In my moments alone (commuting in the car is pretty much it), I do not listen to music, but I do think about archives, memory, collections, public memory, public(s) memory, the political function of memory, the inspirational function of memory, the idealizing and framing functions of memory; I think of writing a play of Grandma Linda's life that is a one woman play that consists mostly of Dearly Beloved letters, but lots of archival work, cleaning and maybe a visit to the insane asylum, but I decide that I do too much violence to her if I do it that way, if I make it a play between her and I am being more true to her, but i don't dwell on this idea too long as my play queue is already too full.