January 3, 2014: 7 a.m. on a snow day
Yesterday’s progress toward unspoken goals focused on a paragraph or two of my Jacqueline story (and sharing the opening with a friend because after five or six drafts I may have discovered a chapter one idea I like) and reading a few more pages of Robert Root’s Happenstance.
And watching several episodes of House MD in the evening while doing laundry and watching the snow fall.
So now it’s 7 a.m. My husband and daughter have a snow day, but I working retail, do not. A colleague has already mentioned that she has no transportation today. Her evening shift is mine for the taking. I had volunteered for a noon to 5 p.m. cashiering shift, and who knows if the person scheduled to do the mid shift in our café will make it. A heap of snow makes everything helter skelter.
I need to decide if I am working my existing shift, my colleague’s shift, both or a combination of the two. After we start shoveling, I’ll need to call and see what’s happening.
In the meantime, here’s hoping that the child sleeps in and perhaps I’ll allow myself a few more paragraphs of the Jacqueline story before I try to negotiate our checkbook (it’s pay day!) and dig into the cat box.
And yesterday I finally listened to a track by Maj Trafyk I downloaded. If you’ve never heard of him, that’s okay. Chances are that if you’re an anglophone you never will. I discovered him while searching iTunes for a French translation of Frosty the Snowman. Struggling to hear and understand the French words reminded me of the roots of my affinity for obnoxious French rap.
My honors thesis at Lafayette College looked at the stereotypes regarding Algerian Muslims created by the French during the colonial era and how those stereotypes still exist in contemporary times, especially as the French legislate the presence of the veil in their society. I examined some of the political statements made by Diam’s in my work. I would love to continue my research with Todd Shepard at Johns Hopkins. I think French rap music makes a lot of statements on the disenfranchisement of “immigrants” in French society. This is what I thought about during my shift at work yesterday.
I see that some of my friends are reviving old writing projects or picking up books they’ve meant to read. Two friends of mine are currently reading my latest revisions of my manuscript(s). Pins and needles time for me.
Enough babbling for now…