The girl who cries at the bar

Yep, that's me. Last night, I was hanging out with John (that's the new guy) and Eric (aka Little, aka Akron's poetry prodigy) and watching the Cavs (I hate sports, but it was an all right game as far as games go) and then, when Eric went home, John and I started talking about Chicago and I started weeping, right there at the bar. I cried. At the bar. For pete's sake! Get a grip...

So, I'm excited, I am...but there's a much bigger part of me that is scared and sad. I feel like I'm walking away from who I am by walking away from where I live. Is that silly? I'm afraid that nothing will feel right in Chicago and I'll fall apart. I hope I'm wrong, and I'm trying to stay positive, but last night it caught up with me and there I was, weeping.

To compound the sadness, I just turned in my office key at the UA police station. I am officially not an A-K-Rowdy any more. To think, 9 years ago when I took my first class on campus, I couldn't wait to move on--and here I am, two degrees later, wishing I could stay forever. Funny how things work out.

Tomorrow, I go to Chicago. Unfortunately, I have realized that I am apartment hunting a bit too early. The apartmentpeople won't have August listings until June. Everything else that I've found is available now/June 1, and obviously I'm not moving yet. Hopefully I get something accomplished while I'm there, besides drinking margaritas with Brandi.

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An update on the BBQ madness: I'll be in Jamestown, NY, June 4-7. Karen, you better come see me!

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?