For two days, I've been lugging my poor-ass Mimi to the NCAS building a few minutes before 7 pm. Just when she's supposed to be nestled and resting in the garage. There is a very good reason behind this. For two days, Mimi has been playing mother hen to a 20" tv and a VHS player. (Yes, they're still around and yes, they're still being used.)

I had to borrow Teny's dormant VHS player (believe me I was surprised people still had them) for a viewing of Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues, the text of which is in current discussion in my five ENG 4 classes. I appreciated the almost 150 students who stayed for the two 7 pm screenings. I would like to think that by watching a performance of the monologues (no less by Eve Ensler, even if on tape) a better perspective of the piece was achieved, far beyond the assembled black and white letters on white sheets that they have (aka photocopied materials and, for some lucky souls, books).

As expected, they strongly reacted to 'My Angry Vagina' and 'Because He Liked To Look At Them.' Could they be thinking about their hypothetical (or, hopefully, real-life) Bobs - those who lovingly look at vaginas - and discard altogether their Prince Charmings, the Ones, the Missing Pieces? Would there be a rethinking of the earth-shattering difference between scented and unscented pantiliners, napkins, vaginal washes, etc.?

A hush suddenly fell when the monologue 'My Vagina Was My Village' was performed. I could hear the faint gasps and sighs as Ensler described the rape of Bosnian women.

There were more monologues and also more reactions, too many to tell. I was happy that it pushed through. I was also pleased that the sections were together (most of them knew each other as blockmates and friends) to see it. There's nothing like the communal experience of a screening, something that is definitely lost with the proliferation of pirated VCDs and DVDs, enabling viewers to retreat to the comfort of their living rooms or bedrooms.

The knots on my back have been pestering me since last night. Right now, they're chattering in unison. These are happy knots, though.

My students are my joy, my release, my salvation.