8 things

Mary's always making me do this weird stuff... Here's 8 things about me that nobody really wants to know.

1. I used to be a bible thumping, evangelical Lutherlic (baptised Lutheran, practicing Catholic). My non-believing friends and family thought I belonged to a cult. I quit when I found out sex was fun, not evil.
2. In related weirdness, I got my first hickey in a church.
3. I cannot go into a bathroom with the lights off. I'm still scared of Bloody Mary.
4. For reasons unclear to me, I sometimes confuse f's and w's. This caused a lot of problems on spelling tests in elementary school.
5. When I was younger, I wanted 6 kids who would be named Lisa, Alyssa, Sheila, Scott, Brandon, and Nicholas. Now I don't want kids at all.
6. I was in gymnastics in high school. My best score was a 5.5.
7. One of my ex-boyfriends is a cross-dresser. He still has a dress that used to belong to me.
8. I imitate other people's handwriting. I used to do it on purpose, but now it's subconscious.

I tag Adam and Brandi.

Count Down

15.5 hours of work until I'm back on summer vacation!

3 weeks til I fly to Arizona!

2 months until fall semester begins...egads!

***

This has been a good poem week. Reworked 2 that have been sitting around not working for a while. I think they're good now, but we'll see how it goes in workshop.

Thesis meeting last night was good. (Thanks Mary!) I can't believe my MFA is almost over, though. This is starting to make me feel very uneasy.

***

July 3 is my mom's 2 year lung-transplant anniversary. She calls it Independence Day. We don't need to talk about how stupid I am for smoking considering this little tid-bit of family history, but you have no idea how amazing it is to see my mom walking around, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry (doesn't sound like an exciting list, but believe me, my mother wasn't herself when she couldn't care for the family). Between say, 96 and 05, my mom got progressively worse until just before the transplant when she was in a wheel chair and using oxygen 24/7. Sometimes I'm still surprised to see her walking without her little air tank strapped to her back. Sometimes I'm just surprised to see her walking. Aaah, science.
Happy Lung Day, Ma.

Stuff n' things

An interesting way of re-visioning over at Peter's. CP talks about two sides of poetry, the first side consisting of music, imagination, and disorder; the second side: form, story, order. He claims, if you balance both sides, your poem's working. Well, I think we all know that I'm doing fine on the form, story, order side of things. Just sometimes I don't get the imagination and music like I want. I'm trying to work on this. I'm trying to find other revision ideas/strategies until I find one that clicks with me, because nothing has just yet.

Tonight, I'll be hanging out at Mary's with Amy and Jana to talk thesis. Freaking thesis! I am so not ready to graduate. Or maybe I am ready to graduate, but I don't feel like I have time to finish everything I wanted to do while I was in this program.

Mona was talking about how much she loves Washington and now I'm wishing I had the money to fly out and sleep in my friend Brad's barn again. He lives out in the middle of no where, in an old barn that's been converted into an apartment. It's smack in the middle of a sheep farm. With grape vines and all kinds of good stuff, see:

This makes me think about place, about calling a place "home." I've never lived anywhere but here. I've never been more than an hour from Mom and Dad and my hometown. When I was in high school, I desperately wanted to get out. But that desire has faded over the years and I deeply love this little corner of the world that I occupy. But what else is there? Am I missing something by not leaving the proverbial nest? As I think about PhDs, I think a lot about location. Climate. Population density. Cost of living. Comfort. How on earth do you choose?

Family

Since they're someday going to be famous because of my poems about them, here are some pics of my family. The first one is Mom and Dad. The second one is me and my sisters, minus one.

My mom almost called the cops on me yesterday... she asked me to drive from my sister's house to her house (about five miles) to get something she forgot. 45 minutes later, when I wasn't back and didn't answer my cell, Mom started to panic. Sent one of my brother-in-laws out to find me, thinking he would see me in a ditch somewhere.

The thing is, I stopped to visit Shelly, my first boss. She lives right across the street from my parents and I always say how I should go see her, but then I never do. I did yesterday. Wow, that was weird. I started working for Shelly when I was 14. She had just opened up her dog kennel and grooming business and I was her first employee. For the next 3 summers, I walked dogs, cleaned up poop, started learning how to groom and train. I think she wanted me to work there forever and be her apprentice, but I had more important things to do...like writing angst filled poems and working somewhere that didn't involve poop. Anyhow, it's been about five years since I've seen Shelly and even longer since I've wandered around the kennel and meeting her 47 dogs (okay, that's a hyperbole, but it is well over 10). Brought a lot of memories back. Made me wish I had a dog. (but glad I don't own 15!)

Friday! Yay Friday!

I am so glad it's Friday. So glad there's only 3 hours left in my work day. So glad I get to see my sister tomorrow. So glad it's the weekend...almost.

Another beautiful day today. Wish I could play hookey.

I'm trying to write a poem that is also a suicide note (not for me, for my persona!), but as I'm drafting it, I realize, there's very little you can write in a suicide note that doesn't sound like you stole it from Forensic Files. I got this idea from an ex-boyfriend of mine who would always write these awful, melodramatic notes to me and to his mother after he drank too much. Of course, he would inevitably pass out before he finished. The best part was that since he wasn't a nerd like me, he didn't have notebooks all over his house, so instead, he would write them on the pages of address books, in the margins of the Akron Beacon Journal, on a paper bag from Burger King...and he'd leave them lying around so I'd find them the next morning. What a wacko. Is it any wonder why I'm single when these are the kinds of men I end up with???

Will anyone notice if I curl up underneath this desk and take a nap? I could really use a nap.

talkin' bout the weather

Today is the kind of day that reminds me why living in Ohio is worth the crazy winters and 98% humidity in the summer. About 75, cloudless, breezy...perfection. The leaves all turned up so you can see the silver side. Everything smells clean. I caught my boss standing in the parking lot, arms spread, face up, eyes closed, and thought, Yeah, that's a damn good idea.

It's sentimental weather. Reminds me of high school, first kisses, marching band competitions. I've been on the verge of tears all day just because I'm feeling so much, I need an outlet. It's strange.

Or maybe I'm just exhausted. Screw this working and taking classes stuff.

Nothing like being ready for bed at 9 p.m.

Let's try this again

Still temping...still only get occassional connectivity on the wireless network. We'll see if it lasts long enough to finish this post.

Thanks for the congrats everyone. I'm totally psyched about this publication...especially since it seems to be moving at warp speed. They sent me the page to approve yesterday, so if I can manage to keep my connection long enough to email them back, it should be up and running really soon. I wish everyone moved this quickly!

My sister is coming into town this weekend and I am really psyched to see her. She was home for Easter, but for some reason, it feels like ages since I've seen her. Ages.

In a month, I'll be in Arizona. I'm getting really, really excited.

Oh, and say hello to Mona, another NEO-blogger and NEOMFAer. We're taking over the world!

PoBiz Update & I'm straight, but...

Okay. Here's the low down. The journal with mysteriously fast response and acceptance time is Softblow. They want three of my poems. And in their archives: Sherman Alexie, Reb Livingston, Clay Matthews, and Alicia Ostriker, just a few of the recognizable names. I still think I need to pinch myself.

***

Over at C. Dale's blog, they're discussing women straight women are attracted to. But not in those exact words. For some reason, I am feeling compelled to weigh in on this. Here are a few celeb women I'd turn gay for:

1. Angelina Jolie (but only pre-Brad Pitt. I liked her better when she was dark and agnsty.)
2. Alyssa Milano
3. Amy Winehouse
4. Kate Walsh
5. Stacey London
6. Rosario Dawson
7. AJ Langer
8. Julia Stiles
9. Lizzy Caplan
10. Sandra Bullock

It's a weird list, I know, and weirder still that I feel compelled to share it with the rest of the world. That's okay. I know I like boys.

saturday evening post

Well. Seems my social life is sucking this summer. Here I am at home on a Saturday at 8:30. Whatever. All the mopey lonliness is good for an artist, right? I'm really not mopey, and totally okay with being at home because this week was a rough one. It's good to have some alone time. But it would be better if I had turned down some sort of invitation to stay in and play around on-line.

Thanks to Steve's awesome database, I've spent the last several hours planning out my next submission binge. 20 journals, 22 poems. The math on that is a little iffy, but I think I worked it out. Wouldn't that be great if each journal took one poem? Does anyone get that lucky?

I'm back on the PhD bandwagon, but perched right on the edge so I can jump off at the first sign of trouble. Just one problem. My recent indecisiveness has put me a little behind on the planning of it all. If I want to start Fall 08, I've got alot of work to do in the next five months. If I don't want to start until Fall 09, I have to figure out what to do and how to pay my bills for a year and a half. Also weighing on my decision is the fact that my nephew/roomie just decided to change his plans for the next couple of years. Originally, he was supposed to be taking classes one semester and doing a co-op the other for the next 2 academic years, but he's recently decided to skip the co-ops and graduate next August. Which means he's more than likely going to be leaving the Akron area a year sooner than anticipated.

My mother likes to remind me not to stress out about things that are too far in the future to deal with, but I've never been good at that.

Okay. It's time to get back to those submissions. Over half of the journals accept email submissions which means I don't have to worry about going to the post office right away.

*Update, 11p.m.
Weird...I just got an acceptance letter less than 30 minutes after sending a submission via email. More later...when I'm sure I'm not dreaming.

I met my replacement today. She should be starting sometime next week, which means I will soon be back on summer vacation. Thank goodness.

Last night, I workshopped my first persona poem and found it infinitely frustrating. All of a sudden, I realize that the poems, as the are being generated, are too reliant on each other to stand alone. I can't explain just yet exactly how stumped I am by this predicament. Hopefully I'll figure it out soon.

This weekend is all about homework, errands, and Father's Day brunch at the Galaxy, a sorta-fancy restaurant near my home town. About as fancy as Medina county gets anyhow. And hopefully a good amount of sleeping. Come to think of it, I may be doing just that very soon. But I thought I should try to get some work done first.

Another rejection today. And I thought I had this one in the bag, especially because the envelope was thick... until I realized they returned the poems. Time to put some packets together.

precarious wireless connection = fast typing and short post.

very busy week. summer class started yesterday. good group, although a bit bigger than I was hoping. helped me see what's working and what's not.

I don't necessarily hate my job, but I do hate working 8 to 5. Can't wait to get back on my normal schedule, rolling out of bed around 8:30 and spending the morning on the porch with coffee and a book. Only 2 more weeks.

lots and lots of rejections lately. getting frustrated but trying not to start questioning my skill/talent. Telling myself it's not my time. Whatever. Not like I'm going to stop sending stuff out.

I'm bored. Wish I could listen to music.

Weekend Wrap-Up

Went to the Irish Festival downtown last night. (Down town Cuyahoga Falls, that is.) Didn't eat any food though, because I had just been to my mom and dad's for dinner. Kinda sad to go to a festival and not eat a gyro or a stromboli, but that's life I guess. After, I hung out with Jay and the guys from the band. That was fun too.

The job is getting to be less stressful, now that I know everyone's name and have figured out mostly how to transfer calls without hanging up on anyone. I don't know why that's so difficult to do!

The first of two summer workshops starts Tuesday. I am really, really looking forward to it. Some of my favorite people are in the class and I have a bunch of new/revised work that needs comments. I find that I am a little workshop dependent...I can do first drafts, even some revision on my own, but I can't call a poem done until I get at least 3 or 4 sets of comments on it. Someday I'll have to learn to trust my gut, but until then, I'm all about the workshop.

One of my nephews graduated from Black River high school yesterday. Black River is a district way out in the middle of no where (worse even than where I grew up) and my mom said that at least seven or eight guys in the graduating class drove tractors to the ceremony. People used to make fun of my high school and say that we drove tractors to school, but I never saw anyone actually do it. But I guess at Black River, it's the thing to do. (Anybody else hear "you might be a redneck"?)

one ringy-dingy, two ringy-dingys

Ah, the life of a receptionist. I'm writing this between phone calls and crossing my fingers that my precarious connection to the wireless network will continue to work until I'm finished. I couldn't get on-line all morning, but after lunch, *poof* it worked. Hopefully it continues to.

Not too much to post on, though, because I have been so tired when I get from home from work that I've just been watching tv and going to sleep. So sad. And this is what would happen to me if I got a real job...it's what happened to me when I did have a real job. I never felt like there was enough time to really get anything done in the evenings, so I just didn't do anything. Oh well. It's summer vacation, right? Plus, I have about 6 new/revised poems ready for workshop next week, so it's not like I even have any homework.

One thing I do have to get done? Cleaning my apartment before Nephew comes home from Detroit. He's an engineering major and is doing some fancy-schmancy presentation for GM and hoping to get a job. This greatly pains my father, who is a Ford retiree. (that doesn't look right...how do you spell that word?) It's funny, when the family gets together, it looks like a used Ford dealership in the driveway. Right now, there's a Focus, two Escapes, an Explorer, an F-150, a Fusion, an 88 Ranger, a Mustang, and a couple of 2nd hand Lincolns. You know, I've never really had to do much shopping for a car, because there's only 2-3 models within my price range that I'm "allowed" to buy. Now, I say allowed because of course I'm an adult and I can buy whatever car I want, but my Dad is quite opinionated and he would torment me if I bought anything else. Plus, we get a factory discount.

This is the most pointless blog ever. I'm really sorry. It's just, well, my brain has turned to mush over the last week and I've got nothing left to talk about.

Is office space the movie with the really obnoxious receptionist who says, "Just a mo-ment" whenever she transfers a call? I'm turning into her.

quizalicious

Check this out. It's fun. I did it twice because I couldn't make up my mind and if you combine both results, it's exactly me.

Here's one:

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Just another manic Monday

Thanks to everyone who responded to my anxious post yesterday. Sadly, once I get myself wound up about something, no amount of pep-talking or rational advice will help. I just have to let my brain chew it up for a while and eventually I will be ready to let it go.

In my mopeyness yesterday, my sister and brother-in-law were also trying to pep-talk me out of my funk, but all they accomplished was helping me feel even more confused about whether or not I want a PhD. They were like "duh, you love being a student." and I was like, "but only when I don't have to write papers," and "I don't want to take the comps" and they were like "shut up and go." Obviously this is the condensed version of the conversation, but that really was the gist of it. Sounds like common sense when they say it, but I still can't make up my mind.

Got another rejection last night. Sigh.

The job didn't suck so much today, though. And I think I only hung up on two people. Even more pleasantly surprising is that I'm enjoying my commute. Mostly because I like several of the new songs that are getting played on all the radio stations I listen to so I've been cranking it up and singing along. I'm especially a big fan of this one

volcano, volcano, volcano

The long awaited At the Drive-In Volcano came yesterday, and I sat down and read it cover to cover in about an hour. I love when books of poetry are easily digestible like that, and I like it even better when I finish reading and want to start over. I've been anxiously awaiting this book since Winter Wheat 05 when I heard Aimee read some of her "new poems" after reading several from Miracle Fruit (which I promptly bought and devoured). I haven't digested enough of Volcano to do a proper review, but I have to say that I love what Amiee does with food, with sea life, with plants. She does what I think poetry should do (but I haven't mastered yet): makes everything new, makes me think I've never seen a fish, never tasted a mango, never touched someone else's skin. And, having heard Aimee read, her sweet little voice is bouncing around in my head. I love it.

***

Last night, I watched a biography of Marilyn Monroe. How sad. And a tiny bit surprising to me that our celebrity obsessed culture started decades ago. I never realized, or thought about it to realize how long we've worshiped normal people who manage to get some screen time. I'd be a hypocrite to criticize it though, since I can tell you a lot more about celebrity relationships and scandals than I can about the war in Iraq or what W is up to this week. I don't know why that is...I grew up watching the 6:00 news at dinner almost every day, so I've always been somewhat aware, but I've never had the desire or discipline to keep up with it as an adult. Partly because I get frustrated and confused. Partly because I prefer to live in my own little bubble, feign ignorance, and tell myself that the only thing I can change is myself, so I'll just focus on that. I guess it makes me a little selfish, but I'm a scorpio. It's in my nature to be self-involved.

***

I've been diligently working on my thesis this past week for a couple hours almost every day, but I'm having a little trouble. I'm trying so hard to produce new stuff and get to my page minimum, but as I write the new poems, a lot of my older ones start seeming lack-luster. I wonder if it's just because they're no longer new to me? They seem less mature, less crafted, and it's really hard for me to revise something that I've thought was done for a year or more. I don't know how to revise the old stuff. I'm hoping to crank out a bunch of new ones so I don't have to revise them, but we'll see what happens as the summer goes on.

I'm also struggling to come up with a publishing strategy. I would like to enter some chapbook competitions this fall, but I feel like I should have more individual poems published before I do that. Especially since the few publications I do have are mostly poems that I won't be including in the chapbook. I don't know how important that is, but I do know when I read a chapbook or first book, almost every poem shows up on the acknowledgement page. I've got about 10 poems still out there from my last two rounds of submissions, so maybe I'll get some good news before it's time to submit the chapbook, but you never know.

I am getting kind of nervous that I'm almost done with my MFA and only have stuff published in 4 journals. I'm starting to question my skill/talent...and I know that most people get rejected a ton at first, so rationally, I know I'm just being paranoid, but it seems like other people who are finishing their MFAs are a bit ahead of where I am. I have to constantly remind myself that I started writing poetry late. I came into the program as a fiction writer and didn't take any poetry classes as an undergrad, so realistically, I've only been writing poetry seriously for less than two years. Give myself a break, right? I'm trying.

***

Thunder has been rumbling in the distance all morning. I hope we're in for a storm.

Has anyone seen my sanity?

Oh. My. God. My temp job sucks. And I have to be in my car for an hour and a half a day because of it. If you know me, you know I hate talking on the phone. Which means being a receptionist is a really bad fit. But, that's where they put me, and as my mother likes to say, "beggars can't be choosers," so I guess I'll shut up now.

Wait, one more thing. They didn't even give me a computer! So really, all I can do is sit at the desk and answer the phones. I have to ask someone to relieve me so I can go to the bathroom for cripes sake.

I'm not made for this stuff.