Weirdo

I haven't left my house in days. Since Wednesday, I think. A little weird, I know. I'll blame part of it on being sick, since I really was in bed for most of the day on Wednesday and Thursday. But what's my excuse since then? I've got everything I need here. An over-stocked fridge and freezer, my laptop, the 104 books I need to read, cold medicine and cough drops, and my roommate and his girlfriend if I get lonely. (And C. even bought me orange juice yesterday...the one thing I didn't have and she brought it to me!)

My roommate and his girlfriend. It is so strange to share living space with people for the first time in 4 years. I go back and forth between loving it and hating it. It's nice to have built-in company sometimes, to have someone to share the pot of coffee with, someone to ask "what's missing from this sauce?" or "Does my hair look stupid like this?" and Michael knows that even when I'm being a raging bitch, all it takes to calm me down (usually) is a hug. But then there's the bad part--the I-just-woke-up-and-don't-want-to-talk-to-anyone mornings when someone else is in the shower or on the couch exactly where I wanted to be, the inevitable couple spats that I have to hear, and the fact that being a loner and a single girl living with a very social couple starts to make me wonder...is there something wrong with me? They go out, like, every day! and if they don't go out, they have friends over. Don't they need to be alone, ever? I don't get it. But they're probably thinking the same--or worse--about me. Doesn't she have any friends? Why is she in her room 18 hours a day? Poor thing, nobody likes her.

Woe is me, right? I know. I've had worse living situations before and I know that Michael is more patient with me and my weird habits than most people would be (we're related, he has to be!) and 98% of the time, everything is great. But the 2% always seems bigger.

So, this is my promise to myself...when I move out of here, I will never, never have roommates again. It's too hard to be a hermit when someone is sitting right downstairs.

I guess if I ever get married, we'll have to buy a duplex so I can live on one side and he can live on the other. How romantic.

Blog as teaching tool?

I think I mentioned this a while back, but I'm planning to have my students in Comp 2 (argumentation) keep blogs this coming semester.

Does anyone have any experience with this sort of thing? Know of good resources? Thoughts or suggestions? Please let me know, *especially* if it was a disaster.

Thanks!

Uvula and a mystery poem

The uvula is a body part I don't want to think about. It's supposed to just kinda be there, you know? Unfortunately, whatever little virus I have has decided to attack it. My uvula, that is. We've all heard of tonsilitis, right? Well, uvulitis is pretty much the same thing, and I think I've got it. Something tells me I should go to a doctor. But I'd rather not. Instead...strawberry ice cream for breakfast, baby!

On the upside, I can breathe through my nose again today.

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No plans for the weekend. And I'm contemplating being really anti-social on new years eve, too. I don't know if even I am recluse enough for that, though.

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Yesterday, I was going through my word files, getting ready for my LWS (little winter submission), and I found a draft I don't remember writing. And when I read it, I didn't remember what it was about. And it was good. I mean, it needs work, but there were some really cool lines in there, and I don't have any recollection of writing them. That's never happened to me before. Now...how to revise a poem like this? Since I don't remember the impetus to write it to begin with, I could go in any direction. But I'm stumped.

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Starting to worry about money again. I don't do very well with budgets when I don't have the money in my hands. When I was a waitress, I would come home and divide out my tips: 60% for bills, 20% for food, gas, etc., 10% savings, 10% fun. Even if I only came home with $10, I would split it up. And I always had enough...except when I did my taxes and found out I would have to pay instead of getting a return. Anyhow, these days, with direct deposit and debit cards and online bill payers, I am not so careful. Maybe I need to cancel my direct deposit and start hiding my money under the bed.

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Is it bad that I'm already getting anxious about my PhD apps? I've been done with them for a week and I'm already dying to know the results. Oy.

duh.

All that emotional instability and sleepy-ness last week was the beginning of a nasty cold. Why didn't I see it coming?

Between cold-medicine induced naps, I've been reading this. I wish I would have read it at the beginning of my MFA instead of at the end. Some of the essays are over 30 years old, but they seem to capture (from what I've read so far) an interesting transition in poetry. More on that after I've finished reading.

The first week and a half or so of break rushed by. Hopefully I can get some work done now that the holidays are over.

Merry.

I've been grumpy for the last couple of days. Not the appropriate holiday spirit at all.

Hopefully that changes soon, since I need to be at my mom and dad's place in a couple hours. I'll be there for a couple of days, so probably won't post again for a while. We'll see. Everyone (my mom and one of my sisters) got laptops for xmas, so maybe there's going to be wireless, now, too.

Happy Holidays! (or bah-humbug at the moment, really. Still have presents to wrap, too.)

PS - good news at Amy's and Frank's. Congrats!

Quickies

Lots of long posts lately, so here are some shorts.

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Ice skating was fun. I only fell once.

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I am momentarily done freaking out.

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only 0 more applications to finish! DONE!!!

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xmas parties every day from today until Tuesday. too much cheer?

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I'm not doing a very good job of keeping up with my reading list, but Frank is kicking butt.

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Telemachus has a girlfriend (or two). And his mother has good news.

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Corn Shake is making fun of my favorite "Christmas" song. I wonder how she feels about this one. (My 2nd favorite)

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Tila chose Bobby. Brent is coming back for round two. Salecia cheated. The twins are the biggest losers. Dunbar is an ass. The Hollywood strike is making me watch even more reality TV than usual.

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I finally caved and got a Facebook account. I still like MySpace better, but Facebook has scrabble.

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Mom and Dad are writing a poem. I'm scared.

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Mom agrees with me about Anita Blake.

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I thought I was done xmas shopping, but I forgot Nana (that's nah-nah, not nan-a like in Peter Pan). She's already mad at me because I never call.

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If there's one blog I should add to my blogroll, what do you think it should be?

unrest

The last few days have been very, very strange. Perhaps this is the transition of being Post-MFA settling in. I am tired, as in, sleep ten hours and wish for three more tired. As in, fall asleep at 7 p.m. when normally I'm up until at least 2. Dreams and real life swishing back and forth in my consciousness because I don't usually remember my dreams, but weird things have been "happening" that I don't altogether believe have happened, so they must be dreams.

I am afraid of getting old. Of having a body that doesn't work the way I remember it working. Of having a mind that I believe is working fine but everyone else thinks is turning to mush. I have a long, long time before this fear is realized, but the other day, after sitting at my desk for 10 hours working on PhD applications, my joints were screaming.

I am afraid of not getting into a PhD program. Of getting into a PhD program and not getting a job. Of never, ever being able to pay off my student loan debt. Of being alone because academia will make me leave my family. I've never left home. Will I find a new one when I do?

The sun is shining today, and later, I will go ice skating for the first time since high school. With people who I know but am not close to. People who, for the last four months, I have been paranoid about. In 4th grade, my "friends" kicked me out of their club. Ever since, I've been afraid of being part of a group. Or, of feeling that I'm part of a group but actually only being connected to it by circumstance. It seems normal for women to have distrust for the opposite sex, but I distrust females. With very few exceptions, my girl friends have hurt me in the past much more than any boyfriend ever did.

The summer before my MFA began, my mother had a lung transplant. I knew at that time that my whole life was going to change. I was talking to an old friend one night about how uncomfortable I was with the transition. She began asking me quick-fire questions. Do you want love or money? Are you lonely or alone? Do you want a job or a career? Are you sad or afraid. Sad or afraid? I started crying when she asked me this--I thought I was sad, but I was afraid. I never knew afraid felt like sad.

Today, I am happy and afraid, and I don't know what to do with that combination. My mother's lung transplant and my MFA did change my life. It is exponentially better than it was two and a half years ago. My mother has always been my solid place, but when she was sick, the ground was always slipping out beneath me. She got better and and everything was paved with safety. She got better and so did my relationship with my father. With my sisters, who I used to think of as mother replacements but who I now think of as friends.

Meanwhile, grad school let me try out things I always wanted to try--writing seriously, sending work out for publication: things I only dreamed about while I stole late-night hours from myself to write the poems and stories that occupied my mind whenever I had a quiet moment. Grad school introduced me to people who understand that impulse, who work just as hard as I do to balance time spent writing with time spent in the real world, people who are comfortable with quiet and with thought, but who love boisterous camaraderie also. Grad school afforded me the time to discover what makes me happy and productive: a flexible schedule, time to visit the people who are important to me, time to read and write and explore ideas--not a 9-5 job and a rigid list of what I have to do/am allowed to do. Showed me that teaching is something I enjoy and am good at, that even someone shy and timid can stand in front of a classroom and demand respect. I've always been a hard worker, but Grad School taught me tenacity, how to keep beating down the walls of insecurity or confusion until things work, make sense, fit together. I know who I am now, and what I want, I'm just not sure how to take ahold of it and make it happen.

And so my body and my mind are shutting down, forcing me to sleep through the thoughts that are making me just a tiny bit insane, making me dream about weird, weird things because I don't know how to process them consciously. And I'm confused. I should be calm, content, excited for the next steps I have to take. I should be loving the process of applying to PhD programs because I know I am ready, I know that I can contribute to any English Department who chooses to let me, I know that I am a poet and writing will always be one of the most important elements of my life. So why the anxiety? What, exactly, am I afraid of? Success? It seems so. I'm a fighter...what do I do when things are working? I have a long running love affair with angst. What do I do when angst stops giving me what I need? How do I kick it out of bed when everything else is working?

I stop lamenting, stop living in my head, and go back to the to do list. Four more applications to finish. When that's done, time to work on next semester's syllabi. After that, finishing my ms so I can start entering contests. And Christmas, less than a week away. Time to be with family, the family that fits together so well, even though we're all a little nutty. Even though Mom and Dad bicker like Ralph and Alice. Even though Carla and I get snarky when we spend too much time together. But I'll sleep on Mom and Dad's couch until we start fighting, and then I'll go home. I'll eat 4000 cookies this week and vegetables next week. I'll drink a bottle of wine and two Advil and wake up feeling fuzzy, but Mom will have made waffles and bacon and a little sugar and grease will cover up the hang over. Before I know it, spring semester will begin and I'll be too busy to worry about PhDs until the envelopes come in the mail. Then the angst can begin again. In the meantime, I have things to do.

Ancient History

I started off my college career at the University of Akron as a post-secondary student (high school senior who gets both high school and college credit at the same time, and for free), but went to Kent State for one semester after I graduated. Then I came back to Akron.

Why? Because I intensely hated everything about Kent State. My classes, my professors, the campus, the girls who lived on my floor (with the exception of my sweet roommate Dana, who sometimes annoyed me but did not make me as miserable as everything else there). My semester there was absolutely, unequivocally, the worst 4 months of my life, and the beginning of the worst year. Lots of bad decisions made.

When I signed up for the NEOMFA, I knew I would have to revisit that awful, awful place. I drove up to the campus to scope it all out, try to remember where the English building was, etc., then drove past my old dorm. I almost had to stop the car; I was shaking and sweating and thought I'd throw up. But, as with most things, my gut reaction quickly calmed and Kent became a place I had to go to...not a place I wanted to go, but if I kept to the Satterfield Hall/Student Union side of campus, no big deal. I'll never drive past Wright Hall again if I can help it though.

You're probably wondering why I'm writing about this. Well, because I had to go to the administration building today to request my transcripts. Turns out there was a hold on my account from something so old that the computer system didn't even say what it was, just that I owed $30. I don't like spending money on things I don't know about (but I'm guessing it was a parking ticket or some sort of fee for moving out of my dorm room before my contract was up).

Anyhow, after I got the mystery fee taken care of, I went back to the registrar's desk, and guess what? The woman behind the counter immediately printed out my transcripts, stuffed them in envelopes, stamped them with the official stamp, and slid them over the counter. No waiting. So the point of this post is that, after 8 years of KSU bashing, I finally found something to praise them for. This was the complete opposite of the transcript requesting nonsense at Akron, where I had to stand in three different lines and wait a week for the transcripts to arrive in the mail, in torn envelopes so that nifty "official" stamp didn't mean jack.

So thanks, Kent State, for making transcript requests quick and easy. I just wish I had remembered that I went to more than one college before the Dec. 15 deadline! Maybe Utah won't notice.

All about the NEO

Mary revised the tag.

The rules: list 6 things you love and one thing you hate about the place where you live.

1) My people are here. Have always been here.

2 )Trees. Big trees with lots of leaves. And grass. When I went to Arizona I missed the trees and grass almost as much as I missed my family.

3) The Medina County fair. Sure, every place has a fair, but from what I hear, the Medina fair is one of the best. I normally hate crowds, but when I'm stuck in the midway aiming for the Gyro stand and 400 people are milling all around me, I feel like a kid again.

4) It typically only takes about a 20 minute drive to get out of or into a city. If I'm living in Akron and need a good dose of farm land, I can be there in less than half an hour, but when you're living in the country, it doesn't take all day to get to where the rest of the people are.

5) People always say they're getting the heck out of dodge as soon as they graduate, but they usually come back. Especially around holidays, you're bound to run into an old friend somewhere.

6) Watching the seasons change, the barns falling down, the houses being built...having enough history in a place that you notice every tiny change.

And the one thing I hate:

The extremes of our wonky weather. Is there anyplace else in the world where it can be 95 and really humid one month and snowing the next?

You're it! I'm not tagging anyone for this unless you want to.

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PS - I did two applications last night, which took about 4 hours (okay, so I'm easily distracted). More of the same today.

Reading List + Seven

Last night, instead of working on my PhD apps, I reorganized my shelves into read and unread. Here's the unread shelves:

Some of these are partially read but not finished, or read but don't remember. At any rate, this is my new goal. At least one book per week (with the exception of the Nortons on the bottom shelf, those might take a little longer). There are 104 books on these shelves, so that means I should be all caught up by the end of 2009. Of course, new books will always be added, so it is really a never ending project, but an admirable goal, right?

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Karen tagged me. Here are the rules. Link to the person who tagged you and post the rules on your blog. Share 7 random or weird things about yourself. Tag 7 people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs. Let each person know they have been tagged.

1. When I was little, I used to collect the little cardboard tags that get punched out of toy boxes and whatnot so they can be hung. I called them "collecties."
2. I also used to collect clown figurines. I know people think clowns are creepy, but when I was a kid, I thought they were cute. I wanted to be one. Unfortunately, once everyone knew I collected clowns, that's all anyone ever bought me. At the height of my collection, I had about 60. Then I got a cat. He thought clowns were creepy. Broke most of them by jumping on the shelves and swatting them down. Now I have about 10/15 nice ones stored away in a box. I don't think I'll ever display them again.
3. My mom used to make ruebens for lunch a lot, except she put salami on them instead of corned beef. My sister didn't like saurkraut, so hers were just salami and cheese warmed up in the microwave. She called them "roonies" and they are one of my favorite comfort foods.
4. I used to think the word "burlesque" was pronounced "burly-que." Then people laughed at me.
5. I am a sucker for animated Disney movies. My favorites are The Little Mermaid and Aladdin.
6. I used to loooove playing football. Tackle football. I can't throw or catch, but I'm a damn good tackler.
7. I say "bless you" when people burp. My dad does it too. I learned it from him.

I tag: Jennifer, Jay, Emily, Frank, Kelly, Amy, and Nin. But I'm not going to tell them unless they come here because I'm lazy.

MFA Retrospective

I should be going to commencement today, but instead, here's a slide show for you:

We all know that the official MFA stuff has been good for me, the learning to write good poems, finding my "voice," etc. But what's been really great for me these past three years are the people.

It all started when Mary told those of us in her first NEOMFA workshop about Winter Wheat. Jay, Emily, Dawson, Aaron and I piled into Jay's van and started driving...except we realized none of us had directions. That was the beginning. We'd never really hung out before, but from that point on, we were "the A team." We struck fear in the hearts of any prof who had more than three of us in the same class. And that's when Aaron became "Uncle A"--that weird guy who always shows up at family reunions but you're not sure who he's related to.

That summer, a bunch of us went to Put-In-Bay (an island on lake Erie for you non-Ohioans). Jay was in China, so the A-team was incomplete, but we made up for it with a few new additions. 8 a.m. Bloody Marys and World Cup soccer at Frosty's, late night Cranium, enough food to feed the whole island in our tiny little rental house (complete with crack spoon and dirty grilling utencils). The best part was when we were in a packed bar and every single person drunkenly sang along with "Don't Stop Believin'" on the juke box. If I could have figured out how to add music to my slideshow, that would be playing in the background. It is my official MFA theme song.

Of course there was AWP and Winter Wheat Rounds 2 & 3, and Bisbee (amazing!) but we had some fun on our own turf, too. Y-town nights at Inner Circle, Mindi dominating the juke box with Bob Dylan and Van Morrison. Kent nights at the Venice where we ate 3 bags of free chips each. Akron nights at Pints! where we spend most of the time outside, smoking, while Frank watches our drinks (poor Frank, he should start smoking!)

And the car pooling. Jay and I added it up last summer and over the two years we carpooled together, we spent 180 hours in a car together. Sometimes Jana was there, driving like a crazy woman, or Emily, or Kristina, but usually it was just me and Jay, signing along to Ace of Bace, arguing about strip clubs and dating and the meaning of life. He's the brother I never wanted. There was the shouting match in Atlanta when we were hungry and tired and both on our cell phones about a block away from each other but couldn't figure out where we were going to meet for dinner. The first day of class after we got back from Bisbee and wanted to kill each other. Some how, these fights are some of my fondest memories of Jay...but nothing is better than the nights that I was DD and he spent the whole ride home poking my arm and saying "Listen T, just listen."

And Jennifer, who I wish I would have gotten to know so long ago...how you saved me from insanity in Bisbee, and how you've become one of my closest friends since we got home.

Anthony, the crazy, irrevernt poet from Cleveland, who makes the best 3am paninis. And his sweet dog Onyx.

Jana, who keeps a cooler of cheese, wasabi peas, and sparkling cider in her van at all times, just in case a bunch of drunk poets want munchies after the bars close. Jana, who always has something to say, and thank God, or I might have kept writing poems that rhymed.

Craig, kicking our chairs and pushing us to think harder than we've ever thought before...then taking us out for pitchers after. The farm, Karla, my equine friend Banjo, long talks on the front porch while swatting mosquitos.

And we can't forget Sweet Mary B., thesis advisor, personal cheerleader, and wonderful friend. Would I have made it through without you?

So many more...if I wrote about everyone, I'd be here all day. Jessica, Lindsay, Amy, John, Eric, Toby, Rick, Steve, Kelly, Mona, Tim, Cathy...how can I say what these people have come to mean to me? I've never felt so much a part of something. Not the first class to graduate, but close enough. The NEOMFA won't be the same without us, and I won't be the same without them.

There, the sappy post I've been promising. Good-bye MFA, I'll miss you.

Hoops, jumping through

I will try to make this my last grumbling post about phds.

Why do they have to make the application process so complicated? Forms on twelve different web pages, no clear guidelines, finding an address is nearly impossible with some schools. Oh, and there should be an across the board length requirement for personal statements. I think my two-pager really kicks ass, but for some schools, I have to cut it down to one page. I wonder how small I can make my margins and font...

This is how I spend my first Friday on Christmas break. In application hell.

Brain Eraser

As you all know, I'm a reluctant fan of romance novels. Well, my sister Carla decided it was time to introduce me to Laurel K. Hamilton, expert in all things slutty and supernatural. Apparently, this woman spits out 500 page novels faster than I can write a poem. And they are slu-u-ty. Anita Blake, the main character in a series about vampires and were-things (not just wolves, we're talking werelions, wererats, and even wereswans) has a harem of about six men, all with various supernatural powers, whom she has to sleep with every few hours or she (and certain members of her posse) will die . She's like an orgasm vampire.

So, Carla told me this book was full of smut, but I had no idea! Gee-zus. I'm starting to worry about her.

The real problem is that Hamilton clearly never took a fiction workshop (tongue waaay in cheek here). She has this god-awful habit of using "she made it a question" as a speech tag instead of just "she asked." And she uses the same word like, five times in a sentence instead of using synonyms or even pronouns. On the upside, there are no heaving orbs or other ridiculous euphamisms for breasts, but there are a few unfortunate "manhood" moments. Another thing she should have learned in workshop: cut any unnecessary characters. This book, which is, like I said, almost 500 pages, details just one 24-hour period. But there must be 150 characters. Okay, so it's a series, and the book I read came right in the middle, so maybe if I were a fan, I wouldn't have been so confused, but really? Do we need 18 vampires, three wereleopards, and 4 humans introduced in every new paragraph? Worse yet, for the 10 or so main characters, she starts storylines that she never brings back up, except, and this is probably the worst part, in the last three pages which read like Anita Blake's very own blog. Which wouldn't bother me if Hamilton had set it up that way.

I freely admit that most of my criticism is coming from jealousy. This author has a long list of publications, a huge fan base, and surely a very large house with an awesome office. Makes me wonder why I agonize over every word and line in a poem that will never get me paid (thinking about Wendy Cope now) when I have enough romance novel expertise to crank those puppies out and maybe find a way to pay back my student loans.

But jealousy aside, I am also frustrated with what seems to me to be simple laziness. Or a rush to get another book on the shelves. Why not take some time to tie up loose ends, line edit out some of those awful speech tags and repetition, and create something that has both mass appeal and shows an attention to craft and detail? Is that so much to ask?

I'm a fan of "low" culture, or pop culture, or whatever you want to call it. I love top 40 pop music, cheesy chick flicks, reality TV, talk shows, celebrity gossip, etc., and I don't think it's impossible to appreciate these things at the same time that I love a well crafted poem or novel or memoir. But I think the people who create the stuff with mass appeal have a responsibility to do it carefully. Hamilton is a pretty good writer--I didn't hate the book, and for probably 2/3rds of the time I was reading, I was caught up enough in her story telling skill to ignore or forget the craft issues, but as someone who appreciates good writing, I'm disappointed that Hamilton (and her editors/publishers) didn't take the time to make the book as well written and it is entertaining.

Thus, it is my solemn vow that when I become a best selling romance writer, I will not resort to heaving orbs, throbbing manhood, tacky speech tags, or lazy prose. Amen.

This is not a p*rn site!

Okay, quick rant.

Will the dirtballs who google 18-year-old boys quit coming here, puh-leeeze.

This post is nostalgic, sentimental, and not at all dirty. Leave me alone!

One down, seven to go

I just finished up my first PhD application. This is such a tedious process, but at least now I can stop fretting over my personal statement, which I think turned out pretty well.

I really need to get some ink for my printer. I bought the wrong kind. Hey, do you have a Lexmark 3-in-1 printer? I have some ink (32 black and 33 color). I'll mail it to you. (I already opened it, so I can't return it.) It'll be like a little, super functional Christmas present.

Today, I grade portfolios. My poor students this semester...I'm always behind on grading. Next semester, I'll be better.

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Now that I'm not a student (so weird!) I need to start making assignments for myself so I keep up with all this academic stuff. I'm thinking about revising and sending out some of my critical papers, starting work (brainstorming mostly) on that single girl anthology I talked about a while back, researching my mafia project, sending out my ms, and maybe a chapbook, trying to get some more conference presentations... I'm crossing my fingers that I get into a good PhD program, but if I don't, I need to get myself in the habit of being an independent academic, if there is such a thing.

Another thing, which I've talked about here before, is a reading list. I've started one on good reads, but I think what I'm going to do next is reorganize my bookshelves into read and not read, and then just plow through it. I'm such a slow reader. Maybe I'll sign up for one of those speed reading courses. But really, I know what they're going to tell me--the problem is when I skim or just read first and last sentences or any other speed reading tricks I've heard over the years, I don't retain anything. And isn't the point of reading to learn and remember?

And theory! I think, and maybe this will sound backwards, I finally know enough to start reading theory. When I first started grad school, everything I read theory-wise sounded like greek to me. I was so confused. But I think that all those buzz words and mini-lectures (this is a chair! Why is it a chair? Because we call it a chair! It's sign and signifier, baby!) have snuck into my consciousness and now I'm ready for the heavy stuff. We'll see. I'll never be a fan of Foucault, but maybe it won't make me cry this time around. (Seriously, I cried when I read Power/Knowledge for a class presentation. I thought I'd get laughed out of the room.)

Alas, I don't have time for all of this right now, because a sweet little meagle is waiting for her walk.

Wrap-Up, minus pictures

My camera never made it out of my purse yesterday, so you'll have to live without visual aids.

There was a great crowd at the reading yesterday, including my parents, 3 of my sisters, one brother-in-law, my best friend's mom, and my nephew. They all came in after Mary started her speech, so when I stood up to read, I was basically scanning the audience to find them for the first 5 minutes. People kept popping up, like Christi, my best friend's mom, who totally distracted me mid poem. But it was so good to have them there. During the last poem I read, I saw my mother crying and almost lost it. I can remember 2 other times I saw my mother cry. Neither of them were happy cries, so this was really strange.

I was more nervous than I thought I would be, so I was convinced all anyone noticed was my shaking hands and dry mouth, but everyone said they couldn't tell. Except my dad, who kept telling me I needed to start carrying tic-tacs with me where ever I go, and I thought he was telling me I had bad breath.

Anyhow, it doesn't really feel like I'm finished because I still have that proposal due on Monday. I think it'll set in sometime next week that I have an MFA.

Today, I'm kind of depressed. And sleepy. I just woke up from a too-long nap, and I'm trying to motivate myself to start working. I think I'll clean my room and do some laundry first.

Exciting, huh?

Set List

What I'm reading today:

The Orchard
Ornithology
Two Wombs
Arbor Day
At the UAW 1250 picnic
Stella Gives Up
Cane and Murrah (or the Glassblower's Daughter)
She is Wearing Blue
We Call them Mountains

No f-words, just a little sex and drugs.

Pictures and a wrap up tomorrow. Can't believe this is really happening.

Calming

The first draft is done. I think I'll be okay now. Plus, Mary gave me a nice pep talk yesterday and someone said my hair was delicious. He didn't really taste it. I promise.

Still haven't picked my poems for tomorrow. I'm trying to avoid:

• the "f" word
• references to illicit drug use
• sex
• anything that members of my family might feel is too personal for a room full of 60 strangers

There aren't many poems left.

I'm being girly today, getting a haircut, my eyebrows waxed, and going shopping for something cute to wear tomorrow.

I'm so overwhelmed lately. Emotionally, mentally. Totally saturated. I keep thinking "I just have to finish ________, then I can relax." But no. There are PhD apps looming, and when those are finished, submissions. After that, spring semester syllabi. Two courses I've never taught before. Christmas. This break is not going to be relaxing at all. Still, I'm okay with all this. I like the spinny feeling in my head.

It's 16 degrees outside. But they're forecasting high 40's/low 50's for the weekend. Gotta love Ohio.

The weather outside is frightful

and so is my personal statement.

To be more accurate, I still haven't written one.

I'm definitely freaking out about the deadline, but I'm more freaked out about the reason behind my impossible writer's block. I'm afraid, very afraid, of actually going through with these applications.

I've lived here (NEOhio) all my life. I've had my family, my best friend since fifth grade, the comfort of knowing the U of A campus and faculty for so long...I'm afraid to dig up my roots and go someplace new. Not to mention my new(ish) NEOMFA friends. I'm going to miss them, this place, my regular life.

But more than that (maybe) I'm afraid that I'll be turned down. Everywhere. Some days, I feel pretty confident. I have a good GPA, good GRE scores, a good collection of poems (published and unpublished) that I'm more than proud of, and if I can just get what's in my head onto paper, there's no reason why I shouldn't be a competitive applicant.

But I have a tendency not to do things that are scary--things that aren't 100% going to happen, and I'm terrified of my own reaction come March, if all those schools say no. What will I do then? Knowing myself, I'll cry, I'll pout, and then I'll start looking for other options. The disaster will only last a couple weeks. But in the meantime, I don't like thinking about that possibility, and no one can say no if I don't ask.

Quickie

I have ten minutes before I leave for the dentist, so quick updates.

• My personal statement is in shambles. Goal - finish first draft today so Mary can tear it to shreds tomorrow.
• Scrapped the body image project and instead, I will be writing a detailed, chapter by chapter summary of a memoir about my mother's illness(es) and my own reaction to them. Shhh, don't tell Mom.
• Tomorrow I collect portfolios and turn one in. Then grading and I'm just about done.
• I graduate on Friday. I graduate with a Master of Fine Arts on Friday! That's 3 days away. Holy effin' crap. Still have to pick the poems and think about witty banter for my reading so I don't start rambling.

bloggers remorse

I've been second guessing a lot of my blog posts lately. Feeling like I'm maybe just a little too honest around here.

Suffice it to say I'm stressed about PhD applications.

yay!

Ever since I started submitting my poems, I've become obsessed with the mailbox. It kind of reminds me of when I was in high school and had church camp pen-pals all over the place. So imagine my disappointment when nothing but bills and flyers have been in my mailbox for at least a week.

Then I check my email...

Harpur Palate just picked up a poem. Yay!

This is my first print journal/journal affiliated with a University pub (outside of journals somehow connected to the NEOMFA), so it feels different. It means that sooner or later, there will be a little book in my mailbox, and my name will be inside it.

Who Needs Sleep?

This should be the national grad-student anthem.



I'm trying to get organized tonight, making sure I know exactly what goes in every PhD app and that I'm sending the right stuff to the right places. Turns out, I forgot to write down the schools I sent GRE scores to, and I'm not going to get the score reports until after the first deadline. I think that means I have to waste $60 resending some that I might have sent already. Also, I just found out that UNL no longer requires GRE scores (not even the general test!), but I did send them reports, so that was a waste too.

Let's face it. I'm starting to panic.

Frantic

I've gone and done it again. Waited and waited to get started and now I have to rush on everything.

Why, after 22 years of education and almost 9 years of college/grad school, have I not learned how to better manage my time?

Today, I'm working on a review of Wayne Miller's Only the Senses Sleep and have to finish reading Leadbelly by Tyehimba Jess. Then I have to read my friend Aaron's thesis manuscript. If I finish those things in a reasonable amount of time, I have to decide what is more important: PhD apps or my final project for Non-Fiction.

I told someone yesterday that I hadn't started my personal statement or my writing sample, and he said, "it sounds like you should go ahead and take a year off." AAAAHHH! Have I really procrastinated that long, that it might be better to just wait? No. Because the same thing would happen next year. Besides, if I stay for the 08-09 school year, it would be too easy to stay for the o9-10 school year and the opportunity it would bring (don't know if this is supposed to be public or not, so sorry for the crypticness). I have to do this now and then decide what to do next if I don't get in anywhere. Although I don't think that's going to happen. Cocky or confident? You decide.

Anyhow, in West Akron, a meagle puppy is waiting for her mid-day walk and I haven't had breakfast yet (I suppose it's lunch, now), so I must go. Toodles.

I tried to stay away

but my blogging addiction has to be fed.

*

Speaking of addictions. I've smoked since I was 19, but I hid it from my mom until I was 26. After I confessed, she asked me to continue pretending I didn't smoke around her. That lasted for a while, but when I spend a lot of time at her house, it's really hard to watch my family go out to the porch to smoke. And my refraining may be part of the reason Carla and I often want to kill each other.

So, I decided since I would be at Mom and Dad's for 3 days, I would quit pretending. But still, every time I went outside, I felt guilty. And embarrassed. Is shame a good reason to quit? I've heard good things about this. Maybe I'll try it.

*

Thanksgiving was good. The house is very small, though, and I am clausterphobic. All of my sisters were in attendance, as were 5 of my seven nieces and nephews and 2 of their 4 kids. Plus all three of my brother-in-laws. It was crowded. I love having a big family, but sometimes it's not good for the recluse in me. I wonder where Thanksgiving will be next year. Will Mom and Dad be in Florida then? Will I be far, far away in PhD-land? Who knows.

Oh, that reminds me. I've known my sister Carla's husband since I was 13 or 14, which was long before they started dating. He's a pretty quiet guy most of the time, but when he loosens up, he's often quite sarcastic and a little mean (perfect for my sister, really). We get along pretty well, but 98% of the time, if we're talking, he's teasing me. So imagine my surprise when, during dinner the other day, he said something nice (and not even a little sarcastic). I was talking about applying for PhD's and said "if I get into any programs..." and he said, "when you get into a program..." I know. It doesn't seem like much, but if you knew Ryan, you would know that was a pretty big compliment. Another thing to be thankful for.

*

I've finally procrastinated long enough that I'm motivated to get things done. I have 2 book reviews due on Wednesday and a presentation in Non-Fiction a week from Monday. Plus that nasty personal statement and my writing sample for PhD apps. And the apps themselves. But I like filling out forms.

*

I'm graduating in 2 weeks. Well, I guess it's technically 3 weeks until commencement, but I'm not going to that. My graduation reading is in 2 weeks, though, and that feels more official and important. I'm still working myself up for a really sentimental MFA-in-review post that will be full of nostalgia and fun pictures. Mary doesn't understand my love for all things sentimental (cheesy pop songs, romance novels, chick flicks, etc.) but I bet she'll get a little teary-eyed when she reads my graduation blog.

After that, there are going to be some changes around here. For one thing, my "fledgling poet" tag line has to go. And I still want to think of a new name for the blog (suggestions welcome). I'm also going to go through old posts and censor some things because I'm going to have my Comp 2 students write their own blogs next semester and I don't want them finding my "I don't know how to teach" posts. Also planning to update my background and blogroll. And maybe trying to do some more po-bizy posts.

*

Okay. I got my blog fix. Back to Baptist Confidential.

Thankful

In the holiday spirit, a short list of things I'm thankful for:

• poems, and the ability to write them


• a (relatively) healthy family


• awesome friends


• good weather (at least for today)


• fresh strawberries in the off-season


• student loans (so money is not an issue, at least until six months after I graduate)


• a light end-of-the-semester to do list


• this email (which means I do not have to update the pdf version of my thesis):

"Your ETD submitted paper looks great and is error free. My records indicate that we still need a signature page from you. Please make sure to submit one ASAP."

*

I'm off to "teach" in a minute here. Several people in my class are already on their way home for the holiday, so I imagine there won't be much actual teaching happening. There may be a game of pictionary, though. Do all students love drawing on the chalkboard, or just mine?

After that, I'll be heading out to Mom and Dad's house and will probably be there until Friday. When I first got my driver's license, I loved the trip between Mom and Dad's house and Akron. Sometimes drove it six times a week in a 1980 Lincoln Continental that got 8 miles to a gallon and leaked oil. Opened my sun roof, cranked up the radio, and barrelled down the high way at 79 miles per hour (I was convinced if I didn't go over 80, I wouldn't get pulled over. And I didn't get my first ticket until long after my trusty Lincoln was in the land-yacht grave yard.) I had school in Akron, and friends in Akron, and I was happy to drive to see them. These days, I try to see as many people as possible while I'm at my parents' house so I don't have to drive back and forth. Sometimes my plan back fires, though. Last Christmas, I went out there and then got a call that my friends from high school were hanging out in downtown Akron. I called ahead this time. (And to the left, a slightly embarrasing picture of me with the brown beast. I called her Bessie.)

Anyhow, I hope everyone has a good Thanksgiving. I imagine it's going to be pretty quiet around the blogosphere for the next few days, so we'll see if I can stay away as long as everyone else does.

Visiting Hours

I have my first "visiting writer" gig today. I'm going to be reading some poems in Mary's new poetry class with Michael Dumanis, Robert Miltner, and Dawson Steeber. After the long line of poets Mary's been bringing in this semester (Kate, Jeannine, HL Hix, please, please tell me I didn't forget anyone) I'm going to have a bit of performance anxiety. Excited to hang out with Mr. Dumanis though, and hear him read. I'm almost done with My Soviet Union, and hopefully I will have time to completely finish it before I go walk Rubi.

*

Yesterday, my boss came to observe me (despite my valiant efforts to postpone his visit again) and told me...I suck at lecturing. *Surprise!* No, he didn't say I suck at lecturing. He just said I rushed through and didn't give enough examples. Duh. That's why I wanted him to observe me on a day when I was doing group work, which I know I'm good at. Lecturing makes me nervous, he makes me nervous, it's really not a good combination. But overall it went well and I think he's still going to let me join the adjunct army next semester.

*

Yahoo weather tells me it is 59 degrees outside right now. I think I have to go check that out.

The Queen of Procrastination

Oy vey! Do I know how to waste time or what? This is what I accomplished this weekend:

• Commented on students' rough drafts
• Talked my boss into rescheduling my observation again (I think)

This is what I hoped to accomplish:

• Rough draft of Non-Fiction final project
• Book reviews for Mary's class
• Rough draft of personal statement
• Class plans for the rest of the semester

Yeah, I suck at life.

But on the upside, I got to hang out with my parents all day Saturday. And I got plenty of sleep.

I work well under pressure. I don't have any deadlines this week, so there was not nearly enough pressure for me to be at my best. This week will be busy with my sister in town and Thanksgiving and trying to hang out with my non-school friends, who I routinely neglect during school. The craziness should help me accomplish something, although I'm not sure what.

I'd set a goal for myself to be ready to send out my PhD apps next weekend, but that is definitely not going to happen. Oh well.

I wish I had something cheery to post about, but at this time of the semester, my whining tends to outweigh everything else. *Sigh*

Country Bumpkin

At least I know someplace I can go if I end up in Chicago next fall.

Which reminds me. Kelli and Jeannine are talking about small town life. I am a small town girl. One of my biggest fears is moving to a big city. I'm pretty terrified of just visiting, to be honest.

A couple of years ago, I went to Chicago for work (back when I had a job that paid for travel) and if I could have stayed in my hotel room the whole time, I would have. It was nice. But there was no reason for a 22-year-old communications coordinator to be in a 5-star hotel off Michigan Avenue. When the bellhop (there's probably a fancier name for him, right?) asked to help with my bags, I thought, I'm not tipping you to carry my borrowed suitcase to the elevator, thank-you-very-much. The guy probably got paid more than I did to begin with. The next trial? Trying to figure out what to eat because everything on the room service menu was more expensive than my per diem allowed. I finally decided on an $18 cheese burger and hoped I could slip the receipt past my boss without her noticing. I called my mom that night and almost cried while telling her I wished for the Holiday Inn and a Papa John's pizza.

It never occurred to me to leave my room, go for a walk, look for some cheap hot dog street vendor, experience the city that I couldn't see from my hotel room window. I was taught that sweet country girls shouldn't go out in strange places alone.

I told Mary that I can't fly to New York for AWP by myself because I'll panic between luggage claim and the hotel check-in desk. I know there are airport shuttles, but that doesn't make me feel any better. I don't know why. And you would have to pay me a lot of money to get on a subway alone. I watch Law & Order, I know what happens down there. (I'm kidding!) But seriously. I'm not a fan of public transportation. Sure, it's good for the environment, but not for my nerves.

Another country-bumpkin story for you: Senior year in high school, a couple of friends and I decided to go to Cleveland to see the Christmas lights in public square. We parked at the airport and took the RTA downtown. Everything seemed hunky-dory until we realized we were about to miss the last train of the night (Cleveland is pretty small on the big-city scale, you know. The trains only run until about 11). We run to the terminal and get on the last train of the night. But ten minutes later, the driver gets on the PA and asks us (we're the only ones there) if we know where we're going. We say, sure, we're going to our car at the airport. No. We're not. We're on the east bound train. And country-bumpkins don't belong on the east side of Cleveland, according to our driver. He stops the train and waits with us until a West-bound train comes by to save us. Nothing went wrong, exactly, but the fact that the driver waited with us didn't make me feel very safe.

Anyhow, the point of all this is that I'm a walking target whenever I get out of my comfort zone. And for some reason, I'm still planning to apply to UIC. I guess it would be good for me to move to a city for a while, experience something different, but I don't know. I don't think I'd be happy in an urban environment. Even Akron is too much city for me sometimes. I have to find grass, trees, 55mph speed limits and double yellow lines. What would I do someplace where I would have to learn how to parallel park and read bus schedules?

Whenever I list off the schools I'm applying to, people say, oh, you don't want to go to Nebraska, it's so boring. Boring sounds good to me. Boring is better than bustling metropolis any day. Do they have Target and Olive Garden in Nebraska? Then I have all I need.

Caution! Venting Zone Ahead!

Sometimes, even people who are detail oriented miss the details.

My thesis is due on Monday. As in, final draft. As in, convert it to a pdf and submit it electronically. As in, my whole committee, the chair of the English department, the Dean of the college of arts and sciences, and the dean of the graduate school have to sign off on it.

I didn't want to have to worry about it over the weekend, so I set myself a goal to finish it today.

I called the Dean's office to make sure he would be in his office today. I dropped the form off at 12. It took until 3 for him to sign it. No big deal, right? I was busy trying to convince Microsoft Word that it is not smarter than I am. Changing page numbers, margins, doing one final proofread.

At 3, the Dean's office calls to say my form is ready. Around that same time, I successfully complete the pdf conversion. Pick up the form, drive to the Polsky building (it's cold, I'm not walking 30 minutes round trip just to drop off some papers). It's now 3:30. I'm in a great mood because I think my thesis will be 100% finished in just a few minutes.

But no, that's just not how life works. I wait for fifteen minutes in the grad school office to hand someone my forms. She takes one look at my signature page and says, "Your margins are wrong. You're going to need a new form."

Great. Just flippin' great. Have I mentioned that I am in a consortial program? That one of my committee members lives in Youngstown and the other lives in Salem (which may as well be Pennsyl-freaking-vania)? Both of these places are at least an hour from Akron. And 45 minutes from each other. I'm instantly thinking, great, I'm going to have to drive around for 3 hours on Monday morning getting these signatures so I don't miss the deadline. I tell the girl with the ruler in her hand that I have a major problem with said ruler. She looks at me like I killed her puppy.

I apologize, say I didn't mean to be rude, it's just, well, I can't easily get these signatures again. No worries, the Monday deadline is just a submission deadline. You don't really have to have everything perfect until the day before commencement. Everyone has to make changes after they turn everything in the first time.

Okay, fine. But if everyone has to make changes, why on Earth do I have to convert it to a pdf first? And if the form has to be so damn perfect, then why don't they generate one for us to use? Seems to me, that would make everyone's lives a whole lot easier. But I'm just a poet, what do I know?

You know what else sucks? Not drinking soda for a whole week. Coffee is not the same. I miss my carbonated sugar.

Oh, yeah, and then I get home and there are 2 rejections in the mailbox. Hello salt, meet wound.

Upstart

We had tons of fun at the Upstart Crows open mic, see:

Me and Dave Mullen, Open Mic MC

Mary B and Eric

Snow... okay, so you can't really see much snow, but I tried.

And my magic boots, the true root of all the fun we had.

Does it seem odd that there are no pictures of people reading? That's b/c either I am an awful photographer, or my camera is lame.

*

I like my new profile picture. Self-portraits are fun.

semesterly teaching freak-out

Well, you knew it was coming.

Now that the semester is almost over and my thesis is finished (99% anyway; I still have to get some signatures and fill out one last form), I've been thinking about teaching. I've been thinking about how little work I've actually done in my classroom this semester. About how my students have a lot of potential but I haven't managed to tap into it.

This freak-out may be partially induced by the fact that my boss finally got around to scheduling my observation, which I've been hoping he would forget ever since he cancelled the original appointment back in October. But he didn't forget, and he's coming Monday.

This week, we're watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and tomorrow, they're writing their in-class essay on it. I haven't written my question yet. Some of the students hate the movie and most of them are totally confused by it, so I'm not sure where to go with it. I better figure it out soon, because I have to leave in about 40 minutes.

Other things I've been slacking off on for the last few weeks? Writing poems, submissions, PhD applications, working on my final projects, paying bills. I hope nothing is about to be shut off. I can't remember the last time I paid an electric bill (I mean, was it two weeks ago or a month, not "geeze, I haven't paid my electric bill all semester"). If life goes as planned and I'm an academic forever, I wonder if I will ever get used to the rhythms of academic life. I wonder if I will ever be able to get personal things done at times other than xmas break and summer.

*

My nephew is a senior engineering major. He's been talking to his profs about getting his masters, but he's got a job interview at his dream job in a couple weeks. In California. And the university is paying for his travel. Maybe I should have been an engineer. It's crazy how different things are between the sciences and the humanities. I guess everybody knows that, but I'm living in the middle of it, wondering how I'm going to pay back my student loans and he's interviewing for jobs that pay 4 times what I'll make as an adjunct next semester.

But I'm not in this for the money, right? It's still hard not to be a tiny bit jealous.

On the upside, everything I do has my name on it; everything he does has the University of Akron on it. Nobody gets to know how brilliant he is except me.

Perfection

The view from my back porch today: And the sun setting behind the tree that my landlord is probably going to cut down soon. : (

The weather this week has been awesome. I finally remember why I always say fall is my favorite season.

*

How do you decide which picture to use for bios/profiles, etc.? I'm sick of my profile pic, but nothing else seems right. And as soon as I think I like something, someone tells me it sucks. (Don't feel bad, Beth, you were right.)

Updates

The Fall issue of Wicked Alice is up! Go check it out. I think I went to high school with this contributor. Weird, huh? I thought I was the only poet from Cloverleaf. And somehow we both end up in the same issue of the same journal.

*

My thesis defense went super well, except for the part where I tried to explain my prose poems and started rambling like a moron. Oh well. Other than that, we talked about revision, my advice for other MFA poets (don't wait for your committee to ask to see your ms, don't start your ms in the first semester b/c you'll hate it by the end, and figure out who gives good comments and ignore all the rest), and whether f**k or screw is the right word to use (in a particular poem). Of course, Mom would say screw, but I think I have to go with the other. The worst part? Trying not to look at Mary because every time I did, I wanted to cry. I can't believe I'm leaving the NEOMFA. Why can't I just stay forever?

Oh, and the ms title. It started out as Hammers and Whiskey, changed to In the Weeds, but we've decided neither is right. What am I gonna call this thing?

*

Winter Wheat was also awesome, although more for the company than the actual conference, which seems to get smaller every year. I decided not to bring my camera, though, so you'll have to wait for Mary and Adam to post their pictures of the ghost town that BGSU's student union was yesterday.

There was some interesting conversation in our panel on the nature of the workshop...unfortunately, I don't think we solved anything, but definitely got some ideas. One thing that everyone seemed to think was worthwhile: typing one page worth of analysis/suggestions (which should be turned in to the instructor and the writer) instead of just jotting down annotations on the page.

Mary and I didn't get to dance very much last night, partially because we were totally beat, partially because the dj just wasn't playin' the right stuff. If only he'd played this:



*

Time to start grading. Now that my thesis defense is over, I have no more excuses for not being on top of things.

*

P.S. Thanks everyone for the good luck and congratualtions!

!!!

I passed! Yay!

13 hours left...

before my thesis defense! I really can't get my head around the fact that tomorrow will be the culmination of 3 years of craziness.

*

I feel myself working up to a really sentimental post, but maybe I'll save that for after my graduation reading on December 7.

*

Tonight, I'll be making some mix CDs for the drive to BG (A Fine Frenzy, Damien Rice, and Paolo Nutini will all be making appearances), reading through the ms one last time, writing down some notes so I don't just start rambling at my questions, and packing my suitcase (which smells like a frat boy because my nephew borrowed it last weekend and his cologne exploded in it).

*

Tomorrow, I'll be missing my favorite little guy's 4th birthday party. Happy Birthday, Philip!

Mary, don't read this! : )

Dear MFA grads (and folks with PhD's too, I guess),

What is a good "thanks-for-keeping-me-from-going-crazy-the-past-three-years-and-helping-me-learn-how-to-write-good-poems" gift for thesis committee members?

Actually, it's okay if Mary reads this because I know what I'm getting for her, but I don't know about the rest of my committee.

I suck at buying gifts. I'm a big fan of gift certificates. But that's just not going to cut it in this situation. Help!!

Signed,
a frantic almost-MFA grad

Simplify? Not yet.

This is going to be one heck of a week. First, I'll be driving all around the NEO stalking H.L. Hix. Okay, not really. But he's speaking in Kent today and hanging out in Akron on Thursday, and I'm going to try to make it to as many events as possible. But before that, I need to read some of his poems.

Then...Thesis Defense on Friday! Holy Crap! I know I'm ready. But it's still scary.

After that, it's off to Winter Wheat. Me and some other NEOpoets (Jen, Jay, and Jessica S.) will be talking about workshops, poetry pedagogy (is there such a thing?), and genuine responses on Saturday at 2:30. I'm thinking about doing a little celebrating on Friday night, but since Mary's job market talk is first thing in the morning, maybe I'll save all my energy for Saturday night. I'm looking forward to meeting some people (Gary, Adam, who else?) that I somehow missed at AWP last year.

*

Mom and Dad are moving to Florida. Well, nothing is set in stone just yet, but they've been talking to a realtor and their friends in Florida are scoping out houses for them. I guess I'm pretty unusual in that until I went to college, I lived in the same place my whole life. Mom and Dad bought the house I grew up in in 76 or 77 and have lived there ever since. But now they're moving. I would love to be in a position to buy the house from them, but I don't think my tiny little stipend will pay a mortgage. Besides, I'm supposed to be leaving, too.

That's what's really weird. Mom and Dad's house has always been the center of our family, and we (me and my 4 sisters) have tried to stay relatively close (except Carla, who has been bouncing around for the last 10 years with her then-boyfriend/now-husband while he learned how to be a periodontist). Now, the folks are planning to leave, Carla's in VA, and hopefully I'll be somewhere far, far away, too. Maybe I'll end up at Florida State and I'll be able to "go home" on the weekends. Or maybe I'll end up in Nebraska and no one will come visit me because they'd rather take their vacation time to go see Mom and Dad.

Regardless of where I end up, I think my family as I know it will soon fall apart. I don't know that we'll stay as close when we aren't geographically close. (Although Carla and I seem to get along better the further away she gets, so maybe I'm wrong.) Most of us hate talking on the phone. Between jobs, limited incomes, and other obligations, none of us have the luxury of traveling frequently. We do like email though.

I'm afraid we're going to turn into one of those families that gets together on Christmas and can't wait to get back home. I'm afraid that my sisters and I will become distant, unfamiliar. I suppose I have as much control in not letting that happen as anyone, but frankly, I'm bad at keeping in touch between visits at Mom and Dad's house now, so how good am I going to be at it while studying for the comps or writing a dissertation?

My mother's favorite bit of advice is to not worry about something so far off in the future that you can't do anything about it. So I suppose I'm wasting time and energy fretting about this now. What I should be worrying about is those PhD applications, b/c if I don't get those done, none of this really matters, now does it?

The Biz

Lately, I seem to have forgotten the root of all this madness in my life: an absolute obsession with writing. When I decided to go to grad school instead of going on the HR job market 4 years ago, it was so I could find out if writing could be more than a hobby for me. Could I stick with it? Would I continue to enjoy it if I didn't have to steal the time from something else? Would I be able to hone my tiny gift into a real talent, a skill that might bring someone (besides me) some enjoyment?

The answer to all those questions is a resounding "yes," but I haven't written a poem just because in months. Everything has been about finishing my thesis. Will this poem fit? Will my workshopping buddies approve? Will my profs/thesis committee be proud of what I've done?

That's not to say that I don't like the poems I've written for my thesis--I LOVE most of them, I'm amazed at what I've learned and what I've managed to accomplish these past few years... but today, I'm feeling like everything I do is a business transaction. I'm tired of weighing priorities and itemizing every minute so I can keep up with it all. Where's the spontaneous creativity, the blood-pounding, skin crawling need to put pen to paper? Have I intellectualized it away?

This isn't a crisis of faith or anything; I'm not changing my plans for pursuing a PhD and I'm going to continue trying to publish, I'm just worried that I'm taking myself and this part of my life much too seriously. I need to let the joy back in. Maybe throw away the to do list and just follow my whims. But that's not very practical, and I still have a lot to do if I want my plans to work out the way I think they will.

Maybe this has to do with the fact that I completely, completely bombed the subject test this morning. I'll be surprised if I'm in the 40th percentile. I care only because I usually do better, because I usually try harder...but I chose not to study and what can I expect after making a decision like that? I'm still hoping that the other parts of my application out weigh whatever the outcome of this test was, but I'm embarrased that I didn't put in more effort.

Alas, there's nothing I can do now, except go pour a glass of wine and try to relax. I can start stressing out again in the morning, right?

Traits of Unsuccessful Test Takers

1. Watching TV instead of studying
2. Taking naps instead of studying
3. Surfing the internet instead of studying

*

I'm not expecting much from myself on the subject test tomorrow. I'm crossing my fingers that my writing sample, personal statement, and general test scores will do enough to get me in the door. Plus, half the schools I'm applying to don't require the subject test.

I've got just over a month left before I graduate. I'm terrified.

non-commital

For some reason, I'm finding it very difficult to stick with one book until it's finished (except books I have to read for class). Right now, I'm somewhere in the middle of:

• Neon Vernacular - Yusef Komunyakaa
• The Little Book of Guesses - John Gallaher
• Clueless in Academe - Gerald Graff
• The Demon and the Angel - Edward Hirsch
• A Company of Three - Varley O'Connor
• Gathering the Tribes - Carolyn Forche (imagine the accent mark, b/c I don't know how to make one)
• Nickeled and Dimed - Barbara Ehrenreich

The worst is The Demon and the Angel, which I started sometime in August. I imagine I would be enjoying all of these books a lot more if I would just spend some quality time with each one individually instead of haphazardly grabbing one off my desk when I have time to read.

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I tried to have a discussion with my students about gender roles today. Well, I did have a discussion with them, it just didn't go the way I imagined. I thought it would be pretty standard for people younger than me to have at least borderline feminist thoughts about marriage and gender equality, but they don't. We started off talking about men & women's roles w/in marriage, and probably 2/3rds of my students said a traditional division would be best. Then I asked them about Hilary Clinton, and no one thought America would benefit from having a female president (no mention of her actual qualifications, just her gender). When I asked them why it mattered that Clinton is female, the answer was pretty much "because it does."

Now, I'm not a politically minded person. I don't follow it all as closely as I should and certainly don't get fired up about much. But I was shocked to see that even the few students who were against traditional gender roles in their personal lives thought that a woman president would be bad news. I guess I'm more of a feminist than I thought.

Sweet November

I have been 27 for 4 minutes. Yay! I love my birthday a little more than any self-respecting adult should. I make sure everyone knows about it weeks ahead of time so I never have to be one of those sad people moping around saying, "No one remembered my birthday." If someone forgets, it is my own fault.

I just got home from celebrating with some friends from school. This was one of the best bday parties I've had in a long time. Why? Because usually I try to do something elaborate, but today we just did the usual - Pints after class. Friends, thanks for the drinks and for celebrating with me!

Hey Jay--you look pretty tall in this picture! You should hang out with me and Mary all the time!

Rubi's Tuesdays

Did you know I walk Mary's dog once a week? I do. Except, I haven't for 2 weeks. So I'm really looking forward to it today. Even though it's pretty chilly outside. (I used to work at a Ruby Tuesday, though, so it's kinda funny that my Rubi day is Tuesday, isn't it? Or am I a bigger dork than I thought?)

I'm going to make beef stew when I get home. I haven't made that in a long, long time.

There's a ginormous geek squad van in my parking lot right now. Someone must be having a really geeky problem if they had to send the van instead of the Beetle.

Randomness. If you can't tell, I'm a fan.

So, I am seriously thinking about sending out my thesis to first book contests. I didn't think it would be ready so soon, but every time I touch it, it feels done. Just one problem. I think I'm going to miss most of the deadlines. Anybody know about good 1st book contests with December/January deadlines?

I decided not to study for the Lit GRE. I know what I know, and I'm not going to learn anything between now and Saturday. I'd rather just cross that mountain off my to do list.

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About blogs...

I've been thinking a lot about the appropriateness of my blog. I keep finding out about people who read it that I wouldn't expect to (say, random profs at UA who I've never had class with, classmates that I don't know very well, my mother on an increasingly regular basis). I wonder if someone at PhD program X has been reading all along, and when they get my application, they'll say, "this chick is crazy, don't let her in!" Also, next semester, when I join the Adjunct Army, I'll be teaching one computer lab class, so I've been thinking about making my students write their own blogs. If I do that, I feel like I'll have to go through my archives and delete anything where I whine about my students or my teaching ability.

So, the question is, how do I balance the two functions of this blog (1. po-biz/grad school self-promotion and 2. the ramblings of an ego-maniac with an inferiority complex)? Any suggestions, oh great blog experts?

Dark & Angsty

Pre-Party with Bill and Ted (left - my nephew & roommate, right - Shane, my fake husband [a long story, which has a lot to do with too much beer and a discussion on the joys of polygamy])



Kelly - the most excellent hostess. Thanks Kelly!

Steve - a very "cheer"-ful member of my thesis committee and Kelly's co-host.

And Anthony, who defended his thesis yesterday. Congrats!

P.S. I don't think my goth-girl costume was very authentic, but it sure was fun wearing that wig.

3am

I've got myself all wound up. Thinking about my to do list and how I know that I can get it all done if I stay focused. Unfortunately, my focus is best when I should be sleeping. And I didn't even have any Mountain Dew today.

I would looooove to go to sleep, but I know that I can't. Instead, I'm blogging, answering emails, and thinking about cleaning my room. Maybe.

It's not insomnia. Once I fall asleep, I could easily stay there for 12 hours. It's just a bad relationship with the clock. Someday I'll get it all together.

Longest. Week. Ever.

Holy crap. I didn't think I'd make it through this one. I honestly don't remember ever being as stressed out as I have been lately. My nephew calls it next-big-thing syndrom. Everything will be better as soon as I... And I thought everything would be better after I turned in my thesis and took the GRE. Except I failed to take into account how much other stuff I was supposed to be doing.

It might be better by the end of this weekend. If I keep busy.

It might be better by the end of the semester.

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VO (non-fiction prof) suggested that I interview my sisters for my final project. I'm getting some interesting responses. I would have never "interviewed" my sisters...aren't you supposed to interview famous people?

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I think I'm going to go paint my nails black now.

Batty

It's official. I've lost my mind.

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I feel so guilty about being behind on my grading. That's one thing I usually am always on top of...primarily because procrastinating increases the pain. It's easier to slug my way through one set of journals or papers than to creep through 3 weeks worth. But I told my students I'd get the papers back to them this week. I've graded 6 out of 20 so far. And I can't look at another right now.

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Time to start working on those PhD and fellowship apps. I've got all my recommenders nailed down, and now I need to get them the info they need. I should be doing that now, not blogging.

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I am obsessed with this song:



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Tonight, I'll be going to KSU to hear Anna Leahy and Alberto Rios read for the Wick Poetry Center. I haven't been to a reading of someone whose work I don't know lately, so I'm looking forward to it.

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I've decided I like Moonlight. I'm still up in the air about the new season of Grey's Anatomy.

It's disturbing that I still make time to watch TV considering all the other things I could/should be doing. It's a sickness, really.

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I'm going Goth for Halloween. I bought a wig, black nail polish, black lipstick, fishnets... I haven't had a good costume for a few years, so I'm psyched.

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Hey Winter Wheat-ers! You should help me celebrate my thesis defense. More later.

Pre-test Panic

Thanks for the shout-out, Mary.

I took another practice test last night and my math score shot up--that's what happens when you live with an engineer who can teach you about coordinates and the pythagorean theorum (I probably spelled that wrong, huh.) My verbal score crept up a measly 40 points, but I'm still pretty confident. I wish there were simple little formulas to memorize in order to know more words, but it just doesn't work like that.

Here's where the panic comes in. I was reviewing the website to make sure I bring the right stuff, and it said if your id doesn't match the name you signed up with exactly, then you won't be admitted to the test. Well, my ID has my middle initial on it, and I didn't use my middle initial when I registerd. Hopefully that doesn't turn into a $130 mistake.

Cross your fingers for me. Hopefully my next post will be about how I rocked the GRE and not about how they kicked me out for forgetting my middle name.

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Update: I rocked it. And no mention of my absent middle initial.

You know, these computer based tests are a little freaky. For those of you who haven't taken the GRE lately, the questions get harder every time you get one right. Towards the end of the math section, I was getting questions that could have passed for some sort of extra terrestrial language, and I couldn't tell if I was becoming delusional or if that was a good sign. It was a good sign.

Thank God it's over, though.

Now it's time to start grading papers...which I haven't touched for about 3 weeks.

Getting on the Rust-y Band Wagon

Yesterday, Jessica asked about Rust Belt Poets. Today, Mary weighed in, and so did the Scrapper Poet. Seems I just can't ignore this one.

Mary describes the Rust Belt Poet like this: "[There's] so much grit that even if your job doesn't require elbow grease you never really feel fancy. You never want to feel fancy. When you go looking for poetry you find it in excavators and dilapidated silos."

Karen says there are 3 primary qualities of Rust Belt Poetry:

1. Landscapes of debris (closed factories, old buldings, etc.)

2. Nature (in some form or another, even if a poet is writing about the urban landscape

3. Social/Class Issues (layoffs, unemployment, etc...)

I'm stealing from these ladies because I think they can say it better than I can. The interesting thing to me is how late I've come to an awareness that this is who/what I am and where I'm from. I didn't realize that the rest of the world (or the country at least) wasn't like us.

One thing I might have to question, though, is that a Rust Belt Poet should be born after 1969. True, the perspective will be different for someone who was around before the factories started closing, but I think that the mentality and the landscape of the region transcend age. I'm thinking here of Philip Levine, obviously born before '69, and Craig Paulenich, who uses the same debris/nature/class issues combination in his book Drift of the Hunt.

Another question I have is how much does class play into this? Can someone who was born into the upper-middle class, whose parents or grandparents weren't part of the industrial workforce of the last century, fit into this category? Does Rust Belt Poetry overlap Working Class Literature? Or is it a sub-category?

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I just got an email from a friend about my thesis ms, and she said, "If your manuscript was a color, it would be brown and rust orange, and it would smell like stale cigarettes and rotting leaves." Now, this may not be the prettiest description, but I think it's accurate, and I think it means I definitely fit into the category of Rust Belt Poet.

Maybe there will be a movement.

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I took a practice GRE yesterday and scored a 570 on verbal and a 450 on math. I'm happy with my math score (who cares if I don't know how to do fractions!) but I'm hoping to improve my verbal score a tad by tomorrow. Cross your fingers for me.

Clams

If you were driving west on 224 yesterday, you would have seen something like this. I'm kind of disappointed in fall this year. I don't know if it was the extended summer (90's in the first two weeks of October) or what, but it seems the leaves are falling off before they turn. For the most part. I do have to say that the weather was nearly perfect yesterday, the sky just the right shade of blue.

My family liked the chocolate pie I made, and the ranch bread was all right. Let's face it, Traceys will eat anything with melted cheese, so it wasn't too difficult to make people happy. But my god, the smell of clams was driving me insane. To tell the truth, I can't remember the last time I tried a clam or anything made with clam juice, because I hate the smell. And I don't know about you, but I can't eat something that smells bad.

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My mom sometimes reads my blog. She asked me yesterday if it was very professional to use the acronym WTF in something that a future employer or publisher might read. Now, you should know that my mother hates "the f word" and any word that sounds like it or is a euphamism for it. "Oh fudge" is a little offensive, frigging or fricking is just as bad as the real thing. She once caught me flipping her off (my bedroom door was shut, she came in without knocking--I would have never done it to her face!) and didn't talk to me for three days. But WTF seems pretty tame to me. What do you think?

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A while back, I mentioned my final project for my non-fiction class--the one about me being a klutz. I wrote a 5 page mini-essay a few weeks ago that morphed into something more about body image and family, but I think they can work together. Now, I have to write a five page object essay for tomorrow, and the object I'm writing about is my folks' kitchen table. Somehow, some way, these two little essays are going to fit together. I'm not quite sure how yet.

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The rejection letters have been streaming in steadily over the last week or so. About half of my HFS has come back already. At least it's a constant reminder to keep sending stuff out.

Ingredients

Almost every year, my family puts together a clam bake in the fall. It's a great tradition, but I hate clams. In fact, I hate clams so much that I won't eat anything that was cooked in the steamer with them. And I certainly won't eat the chowder.

Since I don't eat the clams, I make a bunch of munchies. I have a serious weakness for finger food. So, by this time tomorrow, all the food in the picture will become: zesty ranch bread, spicy sausage dip, and some sort of chocolate mousse pie (I forget what the cookbook calls it...hence the lack of cheesy adjectival description). The only one I've made before is the sausage dip. I hope the rest is good.

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I don't know what my deal is with blast-from-the-past photos, but here's one of me and my nephew (now roommate) scrubbing clams. That's the best part about not living at home any more. There are really few things grosser than scrubbing the sand and grit off of live clams. (Oh, and this is during my never-ending awkward phase, around 14. And I had a cold. I'm not always a mouth breather.) You know, I forgot I used to be taller than Michael. Weird.