2008 is almost over...

and that means I need to post something sentimental and introspective on my blog.

It's been a weird year: my first post-MFA, my first living outside of NEOhio, not to mention my stint as BBQ princess...and frankly, I'm glad it's done. Not that there weren't any high points. For instance, I'm going on 4-months smoke-free, I've overcome my fear of public transportation, and last but not least, my chapbook was accepted on the second try (I won't hope for that kind of success with my first book, but it would be nice). Unfortunately, for the most part, 2008 was stressful, frustrating, and emotionally exhausting.

Some things I hope I won't have to do again any time soon:

• work as an adjunct
• work in a BBQ pit
• live out of a suitcase for 3 months with an angry Russian teenage girl for a roommate
• move to a new city immediately after living out of a suitcase for 3 months

I'll consider this year something like strength training. I know what I can handle now, and for how long. I learned a lot about myself those first days in Chicago when I couldn't sleep because I was sure someone would try to break into my apartment, and in the weeks that followed when I took a nap every time I got lonely (and yeah, I was lonely a lot). So. It was tough, but I got through it. And I don't hate Chicago after all, although I think I'll always prefer a small town.

But I also learned some things about myself that I don't like, and while I don't want to discuss most of those things, there is one that's relevant here. I realized that when my life is in flux, when I'm stressed out and exhausted, writing (and everything that I connect to it) drops right off my radar. I've written fewer than 20 new poems this year (fewer than 10 that I like), haven't submitted any individual poems since February, and in general dropped all the good habits I'd formed about blogging, emailing, submitting, networking, etc., while I was working on my MFA.

I used to think that being depressed or angsty was good for creativity, but I must have grown out of that phase. I've had a really hard time putting anything I've expereinced in the last year into words, and haven't had much luck distracting myself with less personal ideas, either. Turns out I need to be clear-headed to write well. Huh.

So, if we're talking resolutions, I'd like to make 2009 about reinventing my writer-self. I'd like to return to my old, productive habits of answering emails immediately, submitting poems regularly, meeting deadlines (even soft ones that I set for myself), and writing daily. I'd like to finish my ms, get it in the mail, and start a new project. And I'd like to remember what it feels like to finish a poem and be really, really proud of how it turned out.

Cheers!

Pretty Bitter

Go here. It's funny.

Envy

Well, I finally finished the Twilight Saga. And today, while I was at the mall, Borders, and Target, I saw Twilight books, posters, costume jewelry, and CDs everywhere. I admit it: I'm jealous of Stephenie Meyer.

Why am I jealous of Steaphenie Meyer? Because she's living my fantasy life. The one where I write romance and get rich.

Being a poet is cool. And so is being a grad student. But being Stephenie Meyer would be way better.

Maybe I should put aside this frustrating poetry ms and revisit my old novel ideas. Hmmm...

distractions

My sister is making me read this. I'm half-way through the third book. Alternately bored by the writing and caught up in the teenage romance. But man, what a break after the dense reading I had to do over the last semester.

Oh, and then there's cable TV. I don't have it, but I'm staying with my boyfriend for a couple weeks over break and when I'm not reading about teenage vampires, I'm watching reality TV and reruns. Sigh.

Doppelgangers

Do you ever see a stranger on the bus, or in line at the grocery store, or on the barstool next to yours, and think it's someone you know? Do you ever see lots of these strangers who all look disturbingly like the same person?

Today, I thought I saw Zachary Schomburg at least six times. But he does not live in Chicago, so I must be losing my marbles. Unless he's visiting Chicago today, in which case, I should have said hi.

*

On another note entirely...why can't the CTA trip planner tell me where exactly my transfer bus stop is? I walked around 2 different blocks in a kinda sketchy neighborhood trying to find the right sign, only to eventually find it in the exact opposite direction it looked like on the website. City living--blech.

*

Oh, and the reading was good. Never read anything by James Shea before, and he was impressive. And Jason Bredle is a really nice guy (which is not an insult to his poetry (you know, like when you set your friend up on a blind date and say the guy is "nice" because he isn't cute) because I already knew I was a fan, so it goes without saying). I should probably delete that whole parenthetical, but I'm not going to. Someone will understand.

*

I'm on page 19. Pages 10-19 are extremely rough. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

sigh

I woke up with boxing gloves on this morning, ready to fight.

I want to be done with my Ashbery paper, but I've still got 3 pages and alot of revising to do before I can call it quits for the semester. Maybe I can finish it today, but I'm not holding my breath.

It's been well over three months since I smoked my last cigarette, but today, I keep looking around for my camels. Some ex-smokers say they never stop having cravings...today, I understand.

Maybe the problem is that I haven't had any coffee and I've been up for over two hours. Okay. Coffee in hand. Should be better shortly.

On the up-side, there will be poetry and revelry tonight. Hopefully I will be celebrating the end of the semester and not just taking a study break.

10 Fastest Dying Towns

It's not looking good for the Rust Belt. See here.

burst

I had a little spurt of productivity this morning, knocked out 3 more pages of my Ashbery re-write, and now my motivation is gone. I'm around 13.5 pages and need at least twenty. It's due Friday, but I was really hoping to be done before that.

Did I really say writing papers was one of my favorite parts of academia? Yes, I'm over-caffeinated and wearing grungy sweats, but that's about the only part that rings true right now. When's the adrenaline rush going to kick in?

I feel a long post about being a writer/poet coming on...a retrospective post about the last six-seven months and how life has gotten in the way of what I love to do...I'm sure it will be inspiring and motivating. Or whiny and self-deprecating. Either way, it will have to wait until I'm done arm-wrestling with John Ashbery.

The Tipping Point

I love coming across articles like this--especially now that I've transitioned from small-town gal to urban dweller. We didn't have door men or cab drivers in my home town. Okay, so, we had cab drivers, but I never needed a cab. And I've actually dodged concierges in fancy hotels because I didn't know how much to give them (I did that on my first ever trip to Chicago, now that I think about it). Plus, I think it is so, so important for people to know that service professionals often get paid less than minimum wage because they're expected to make a certain amount in tips. I remember my parents being shocked when I told them (almost 10 years ago) that I made $2.13 an hour at my serving job. I'm pleased to say they quickly became better tippers...

Which reminds me. I have a line in a poem about a waitress counting her 10% tips, which my workshop thought was a little unrealistic. It was pretty normal where I worked when I was a waitress, but maybe things have gotten better? Any servers reading my blog who want to weigh in? I doubt people who tip low would admit it, so I won't even ask about that...

The biggest news in my poetry career so far...

Okay, so, I'm a little overly excited. It's just a chapbook. ;-) (Just in case anyone missed the subtle cues, it's defininitely not "just" anything. I'm really proud.)

Check it out: dancing girl press 2009 chapbook line-up. Keep scrolling. I'm in September.

Woohoo!

A little Thursday morning fun

Almost there...

Can I just tell you, making people show up to class on the day before Thanksgiving is just mean. And scheduling conferences on that day: also mean. I'm really, really annoyed that I'm not on my way back to Ohio yet, and won't be until midnight. That's right...I'm riding a bus over night and will be arriving in Cleveland at 7:30 Thanksgiving morning. Lame!

*

Of course, I'm very excited to get home and see my boyfriend and my family, but mostly, I'm excited to meet my new "little sister." Mom and Dad rescued her from the shelter last Friday, after they saw her story on the news (watch here). I might just die of puppy envy.

*

I am pretty grumpy because I want to be home and I'm not, so instead of whining, I'm going to jump on the gratitude journal band wagon and see if I can mellow myself out.

This year, I'm thankful for:

• My amazing family (and bf)
• New friends
• Finding a path in life that feels right (most of the time)
• Poems
• Being able to watch TV on the internet
• Having enough money for the things I need, and most of the things I want
• Student Loans! (see above)
• Pink pepper spray (and that I've never had to use it)
• Books
• Office supplies
• Netflix
• Self-awareness & growth
• Being a non-smoker for the first time in 9 years
• Moving to Chicago, and learning to be truly on my own, even though I'd still rather be in Akron
• The Megabus
• Textured tights
• Hot water...

Okay, so that last one was me looking at the clock and realizing I have to go shower and get ready for class (stupid day before Thanksgiving class). I probably won't be back here for a while, so happy Turkey Day, ya'll.

Fill in the blank

I was just reading this blog, which I've never read before, and found this survey. I like it, so I'm going to fill it out. Besides, I've accomplished exactly nothing since I got home from class, and doing this will at least get me typing.

• My uncle once: umm...I can't think of an answer for this one. This is not starting well.
• Never in my life: will I eat liver, sushi, or mushrooms on purpose.
• When I was five: I believed I could make it rain.
• High school was: somewhat torturous, but great fodder for poems.
• I will never forget: the day of my mother's lung transplant.
• Once I met: Al Gore.
• Once at a bar: I wrote a terrible poem on a paper towel from the bathroom.
• By noon I’m usually: starting to be productive.
• Last night: I worked on my manuscript for the first time in a long time.
• If I only had: the power of teleportation...
• Next time I go to church: I will probably cry my eyes out.
• What worries me most: is that people will only see the worst in me.
• If I were a character in Shakespeare: I would have an amazing wardrobe.
• I have a hard time understanding: philosophy, and people who like it. (Love you, bf)
• You know I like you if: I overshare. It makes me feel close if you know my secrets.
• Take my advice, never: write an email when you're drunk.
• My ideal breakfast is: mom's waffles with bacon cooked inside.
• If you visit my hometown, I suggest you: bring a camera and a picnic basket.
• Why won’t people: respect my personal space (especially on the el)?
• The world could do without: girls wearing leggings instead of pants.
• I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: do a shot of whiskey.
• My favorite blonds are: babies.
• If I do anything well, it’s: obsess.
• And, by the way: I'm glad things are getting back to normal.

I just realized how much easier the end of the semester is when you don't have students. Too bad my assistantship isn't for not-teaching every semester!

I keep putting off buying my end of the semester bus ticket because I don't know when I'm going to finish the long version of my Ashbery paper. It's due 12/10, but if I get done sooner, break can start sooner... (Really, who am I kidding? I should just make the reservation for 12/11.)

Last night, I spent several hours updating my submission records and trying to get my files organized. Realized I've barely sent anything out since February. I have 200 free copies to use at school before the end of the semester, so you know what they're going to be...

I'm anxious about going home and seeing my peeps, but not so anxious to see the snow. Maybe it will melt before Thursday. What do you think, Ohioans?

Speaking of Thursday...it's really not fair when profs say over and over again that we are going to have class on the day before Thanksgiving and then cancel at the last minute. Now my overnight bus ride is just pointless.

Yeah, that's about all I have to ramble about today. Happy Monday!

Wanna Trade?

So, I was just organizing my poetry shelves when I realized I have two copies of Anne Winters' The Displaced of Capital, and I was wondering what I was going to do about it when I had the most brilliant idea...

Anyone want to start an "oops, I ordered it twice" book trade? I know I'm not the only one who binge-orders at Amazon without the benefit of a list.

Day Off

I had big plans for today...including doing laundry, scrubbing my bathroom, and watching that Netflix movie that's been sitting here for 3 weeks (if I can find it)...but here it is, 4pm, and I've gotten as far as carrying a basket of laundry downstairs, finding out that all the machines are in use, and giving up.

But I don't feel guilty about that. I've been working my ass off this semester--well, working my ass off ever since I stopped crying about living in the big bad city and missing my boyfriend and my MFA peeps and my family. Today is the first day since I've been here that I have zero deadlines stressing me out. Sure, I have to go back to work tomorrow, but I am caught up enough to relax for one day. So, instead of doing chores like I should be, I've watched a little internet TV (last weeks Supernatural (BTW, who knew this guy was so freaking ripped?)) and chatted on facebook with a guy I've know since 4th grade who also happens to live in Chi-town.

Mark this as another reason academia is better than corporate life--when you finish a big project, you get to take the next day off.

procrastinator's update

With less than 2 hours left until my self-inflicted deadline, I now have 8.5 pages typed and believe the other 1.5 pages will come from expanding on things I rushed through.

But...I just. don't. want. to. write. anymore.

I feel like there should be some marathoner's metaphor for this, but I haven't been a runner since tenth grade gym class, so I just don't know.

Writing papers is lame. It's a good thing I'm doing a creative dissertation because there's no way I could do hundreds of pages of this.

So. Back to work. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Update: 10:34. I almost finished on time. And, I'm a little short page-wise, but my word count is right on track. How does that work?

Anyhow, we have to read these bad-boys and I know that it takes longer than 15 minutes to read ten pages, so it's good that I'm short.

How Long?

I've been toiling over my Ashbery paper since Thursday and I have 3.5 pages typed and several pages of disjointed notes to show for it. Today is the last day, and I'm giving myself a 10 pm deadline. We all know I procrastinate, but I will hate my life if I have to pull an all nighter. Tomorrow I have to be on campus 9am to 6pm, which isn't the longest academic day I've ever had by far, but it would be the longest academic day after an all-nighter. So, 10 pm deadline. I'm giving myself, more or less, 2 hours per page. That should be more than enough, right?

That's where you come in, readers. I'm curious how much time you spend working on your critical writing. I can easily spend 8-10 hours on a 3-5 page paper, but I also know that when pushed, I can write a decent (not my best work) 3-5 page paper in about an hour and a half (assuming I know/understand/like my topic). But when we get to 10 or more pages, I feel like it will take days. For those ugly, unavoidable 20-25 pagers, I need at least a weekend of uninterrupted cramming. Doesn't matter how much research I do ahead of time, or even if I manage to write a first draft before the last minute.

How long, folks?

PS - thanks to everyone who has made suggestions (here and elsewhere) about resources. I don't have time to check them out for this paper, but I do have to expand this topic at the end of the semester, so I'll take a look then.

Break Time

I have been so busy lately--and not just "wow, there's a lot on my to do list, but I'm watching TV" busy--that I have gotten really bad at answering emails, updating my blog, etc. (So, if I owe you some sort of communication, please forgive me!) But I'm still really good at updating my facebook status. I'm taking a little break right now for dinner, but then it's back to Ashbery. I don't know what I've gotten myself into--I'm supposed to be coming up with a theory as to how his seemingly unrelated phrases and images work together to make meaning. Huh? I'm sooo not the scholar I pretend to be. The worst part is, if I bomb this, me and the prof won't be the only ones who know--I have to present this paper, conference style, to my whole class and whoever else decides to show up next Wednesday. Fun!

*

I really wish I was going to Winter Wheat this weekend. Looks like there will be some really great sessions, and of course lots of old NEObuddies. I hope you guys have fun!!

Life is nuts. School is hard. Blogging will have to wait.

Maybe tomorrow.

In the meantime, a photo. NEOMFA alumni at the Windsor Pub. One of many unofficial reunions to come.

Morning Musings

Why can't I make a decent pot of coffee? Seriously, someone, help me out!

*

I had way too good of a weekend for it to be Monday already. Every day should be: sleep until 11, go out to lunch, take a nap, go out to dinner, go dancing until 4 am. Forget writing syllabi and reading Mao.

*

Fellow bloggers: does your spouse/partner/boyfriend/girlfriend read your blog? BF and I had a little argument about this the other day. I think he should read it, he thinks not...but he was annoyed when Toby knew something from my blog that I'd never talked to BF about. I'm just curious how other couples handle it.

*

I think I figured out poetry project #2. There's going to be mafia/ Italian Catholic immigrant themes running through it, but the organizing narrative will be about a woman observing her aging mother after her father leaves (or dies, haven't decided how morbid I want to be yet). With the exception of some details from the 1940's, this project will not be (auto)biographical. I'm feeling really good about this--I've been kicking around this idea for years, but I didn't want to write a book that had to be totally research based. The mother-daughter angle lets me get started even though I don't have time to do the library work right now.

Alas, I still need to finish ms #1. I'm clearly missing fall deadlines again, but maybe I can make the winter ones.

*

Indian summer this week. It was really warm out over the weekend and is supposed to be in the 70s today and tomorrow. And I just put away all my summer clothes.

*

I thought I was going to be part of history and become a Chicagoan all at once when Obama comes to Grant Park on Tuesday, but apparently, the tickets sold out in less than an hour. I guess I'm going to an election party, but I think it might be safer to hide in my apartment and avoid the CTA that day. Oh well.

*

Carol asked me to talk about revision. She's finishing her thesis. I'm going to try to post something soon. Something poetic (gasp)!

All Saints

Everyone thought I'd be a Halloween baby, and sometimes I think I should have been. When I was a kid, everyone dressed up at my birthday parties anyhow. Alas, I was born a day late.

I celebrated with my family last weekend, but tonight, I'm going salsa dancing with my new Chicago friends. Hopefully I don't break an ankle.

Happy Birthday to Karen, too!

Six Pack

You have to go watch the video at Oliver's! I'm not huge on political satire, but this Joe Six Pack guy is, I think, actually a guy I dated in college. I admit, not one of my best decisions. But if you've read many of my poems (esp. Barberton), you'll get a perfect visual.

*

I was going to give a link to Barberton or another poem ispired by my real life Joe Six Pack, but it seems most of my links to lit mags are defunct. Hopefully its just my links that are bad, and not the lit mags themselves. Going to have to do a little searching...

Some 80's Halloween Nostalgia

This thing used to scare the bejeezus out of me.

Post-breakdown post

After a nice, long weekend with my family and my bf, I'm back in Chicago and freezing my butt off. But more importantly, I am feeling a lot better about life in general and have realized that I just need regular doses of home in order to manage my new life and circumstances. I'm close enough to Ohio that a weekend trip is manageable, so I don't know why I was exiling myself for the last two months. That won't happen again...especially since I'm going home 8 days from now and again for Thanksgiving. And after Thanksgiving, only 2 weeks left in the semester.

Despite my recent emotional instability, this semester has been flying by. We're more than half-way done and it's time to start writing papers and revising workshop poems, which are two of my favorite tasks. It's weird...writing term papers is kind of agonizing, but it's the kind of agony I enjoy. Over-caffeinating, running high-lighters out of ink, sitting in my un-ergonomic desk chair for so long I can't walk when I get up, showing up to turn in my paper with a bandanna and grungy sweats... I'll hate myself for a couple of days because I procrastinated too long, and then the adrenaline will kick in and that's when I love being an academic the most. Remind me of this a month from now when I'm panicking, okay?

When I'm done here, I'll be starting on the revisions because one is due tomorrow. I love when revisions are required during the semester and not just for the final portfolio--gives me more motivation to do more than 2 drafts, which is necessary most of the time anyway. It'll be interesting to see where these revisions take me. I've written about five/six new drafts this semester and turned in a couple of older, but not polished, poems for workshop, so there's a combination of Stella manuscript-ish stuff and stuff that doesn't fit into a project yet. Maybe, as I'm revising, I'll see that they're all about Stella & co., or maybe I'll start to see a new trajectory developing. Either way, I'm looking forward to envisioning these poems as part of a series. I've found that I don't like writing poems that don't belong to something larger. They feel shapeless and meandering.

Speaking of shapeless and meandering...my blog is definitely suffering, and has been since I went on the road back in May. I certainly haven't stuck to my resolution about doing more po-biz here, and my site meter is showing that people are tired of me whining. Alas, I struggle to find something more thought-provoking to write about because my brain is just tired lately. When I'm emotionally unstable, I don't do much serious thinking, except about me-me-me. Sorry, folks. Hopefully soon. I'm regaining balance.

Family

Where I'll be in less than 48 hours...

On Thursday, I'm going home and I'm so excited I can't concentrate. I am like a kid going to Disney Land for heaven's sake.

I have about 1,000,001 things to do, but none of them are getting done. Not reading Judith Butler, not working on my syllabus for comp 2, not writing/revising poems, not cleaning or packing...just playing around on Facebook and blogging. Really productive.

I don't know if it's because the trip home is finally in sight, or if I'm starting to settle in...but I haven't cried or freaked out in about a week. The thing is, I'm still not thrilled about what I'm doing here, but I'm trying to be more patient. I'm also giving myself permission to adjust my priorities a little bit...meaning that just because something is assigned to me, it isn't necessarily the most important thing in the world. If I don't dive face first into Heidegger and Derrida because I'm reading poetry, or if I slack on my comp syllabi because I'm working on one for intro to poetry, it's kind of okay.

What I'm most looking forward to, and what I've always been excited about in terms of getting a PhD, is studying for my prelims. I'm not actually looking forward to taking them, just to the year or so when all I have to do is lock myself in a library carroll and read. And, theoretically, everything on my reading list will be interesting to me, because I will be the one writing the list. So, in my new world-view, I'm just biding my time until I finish my course work and register for those reading hours.

Also on the happy side of things, I got my teaching assignment for spring today, and my classes are at 10 and 11, which means I don't have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn. Yippee!

Enough! I have to go try to accomplish something...

A Song (and a poem) for Sunday

*

Christina Pugh, UIC prof, is featured on Poetry Daily today.

Bad Dream

I had a dream last night that someone stole my backpack and everything was in it: laptop, cell phone, wallet (cash, credit cards, IDs), planner, all hard copies of my new poems... The dream went on for ages with me trying to figure out how to go about finding or replacing what I'd lost. Needless to say, I woke up a little panicky.

This dream seems to be telling me 2 things:

1) I need to start carrying a purse again. It may be easier to have everything in one bag, but it isn't safer.

2) Everything I'm doing these days is interrelated, and if one thing doesn't go well, then I end up feeling bad about the others. This is not healthy.

My subconscious is so smart.

Ode to Brandi Homan

Last night, at Brandi's book release party, I had a little flashback. It was AWP 2007 in Atlanta and I was feeling a little overwhelmed with all the crowds at the bookfair, a little overloaded from all the panels that I had gone to that morning, and I just wanted some peace and quiet, and since it was winter, a little Atlanta sunshine. I found a spot in the courtyard and sat down, started sifting through my swag. I pulled out a chapbook, Two Kinds of Arson, by some girl I'd never heard of, but I opened it up, read the first poem, and loved it. And then I loved the second, and the third, and so on. When I got to the last poem, I flipped back to the beginning. Brandi had written the poems I was trying to write--the angst ridden ex-boyfriend poems that don't even hover on sentimentality. Kick-ass single girl poems that don't make being single sound sad even when it is lonely. I was in love with these poems.

That night, Brandi read with a bunch of fabulous poets at a place called D'jango, in a dimly lit basement which is part of why the release party at the Hideout started the flashback...but anyhow, after she read, Mary made me introduce myself and tell Brandi that I was in love with her poems. I was (am) shy and really didn't want to, but I did. Oh, I was so nervous, which seems silly, now that I know Brandi. She signed my book "So glad I'm not the only one who obsesses" or something along those lines, and I adored her even more.

Since then, Brandi and I have become friends, and I almost forgot that we met because she was one of my poetry idols. Last night, I remembered. And I finally got my hands on a copy of Hard Reds, which I haven't gotten all the way through yet, but I am totally loving it just as much as I loved Arson. So here's to you, Brandi, for being an inspiring poet and for being the first member of my Chicago family. Thanks for everything!

This is my pops. He's 70 today. 70! Happy Birthday, Dad. And thanks for the pep talk.

BTW, he is smiling.

*

I'm at Dollop again, and I think this place really is going to save me. The guys working on my building apparently don't take Saturdays off.

*

I had yet another freak-out last night. When is this going to end? When am I going to adapt?

*

I'm about to write a syllabus for Intro to Poetry Writing. I will be stealing many, many an exercise from Mary B., mentor extraordinaire. Unfortunatley, I won't get to use this syllabus for at least 2 more semesters. Gotta put in my comp-teaching dues.

Dollop

I think I just fell in love...Dollop, the cutest little coffee shop I've ever seen, has been hiding just a five minute walk away from home. The review on the website says:

"Dollop is a true “coffee home:” a coffee shop for those intent on setting up shop with laptops, newspapers, books and caffeine for hours at a time...The back wall contains an unassuming threshold that leads to a comfy cove with couches, library-like tables and bookshelves: seemingly designed for those who would go to the library if not for the anti-noise and anti-beverage laws."

If only I had found this place sooner! It's like they built this little cove for me. I hate working in libraries, but I've found that my apartment is just not conducive to hours and hours of studying time. Especially this week, since there's a crew literally hanging outside my window repairing the bricks and the balconies and making a lot of noise and dust.

An hour ago, I was ready to go awol, rent a car and drive to Ohio just to get the f$#% out of the city, but now, I think I can wait the two weeks until I'm supposed to be going home for my first visit in what feels like years.

Thank you, thank you Dollop! You may have just saved my life (or at least my sanity)!

Updates and stuff

You may have noticed I changed my profile pic. The other one was getting old, I was tired of looking at it. But more importantly, the new one is, I think, a funny little collage of new and old. I'm at Lake Michigan, my favorite part of Chicago, and I'm wearing my lucky Akron sweatshirt (many, many good things have happened to me in this shirt). Maybe this pic will be a sign of good things to come...

Like the acceptance letter I got in the mail yesterday from Hiram Poetry Review. I guess it's not all lost in the USPS. I had a near miss with HPR about a year and a half ago--first time I ever had to withdraw a poem and the editor said he was just getting ready to send an acceptance. So, when they say "send more work," you should really send more work! Now, if I could just get myself to sit down and put some new submission packets together...but not today. Today is for Jorie Graham, Kafka and Deleuze, and Longenbach.

And voter registration...aargh. My Ohio registration was way out of date (try 2004 out of date...yes, I'm one of those awful people who only votes during presidential elections) so I tried to update it at the same time I requested an absentee ballot. Well, the good ole paper pushers lost my paperwork, so now I'm not registered in Ohio and today is the last day to register in Illinois. Hopefully the fact that I don't yet have an Illinois ID is not a problem. If it is, well, you can't say I didn't try.

And now, I hear the laundry room calling. Yes, I was up today before 6 am and already have laundry going. How ambitious of me. But I'll leave you with a little bit of scenery. I've never seen any lake the color it was on Saturday, and even though the leaves haven't turned here yet, I think this picture looks like fall.

For the record...

It has been 21 days since I joined the ranks of non-smokers around the world.

I don't know what I'm more proud of...quitting or refraining from whining about it on my blog. It's gonna stick this time.

Retail Therapy

I went to Target today...my first non-grocery shopping excursion in Chicago...and bought new shoes and new sweaters and spent way too much money. And I just wrote a poem I think I like. Also a first since I moved to Chicago. Coincidence, or direct connection? I guess we'll never know.

Really no time for blogging, but in case anyone's been following the saga...I think the breakdown has passed. I've decided to bite the bullet and go back to Ohio a little more often than is practical, but that decision has me feeling like everything else is do-able. In the meantime, I've been scheduling literally every minute of my day trying to stay busy, and I think it's working.

My boyfriend is coming to visit on Friday, and maybe that has something to do with my better mood, too.

Alas, it's back to work, now. Revising my fancy, new-fangled comp syllabus.

Counterproductive

I have (day)dreams of living a normal life...getting up in the morning, driving to the office, sitting in my cubicle for the next 8 hours, driving home, cooking dinner and watching TV until bedtime. Going on actual dates with my boyfriend instead of just talking on the phone 2 hours a day (some days, not all!) and having something to talk about besides how I'm (not) adjusting to life in Chicago.

I am really, really torn. A couple days ago, I was torn enough to cry for oh, I don't know, about 4 hours straight. Today, I've got that under control, but I'm still feeling really--off.

I'm not a quitter, so even though I have major doubts about the rightness of me being here, I'm in it for the long haul. Unless something more practical and more pleasant somehow hits me upside the head. Hence the title of this post: Counterproductive. This little emotional crisis I'm having is definitely not helping me get stuff done. Not helping me write poems, even though I play the angsty poet card all the time. Not helping me be successful at anything.

I took the MFA path to see if I could really be a writer. And I found out I can. Am I taking the PhD path to find out if I can really be a scholar? Because that's what it feels like, but that's not exactly what I'd intended. Do I really want to teach? Or do I just want the benefits of an academic schedule? These are questions that I am constantly asking myself...and I can't come up with an answer.

Another issue I'm having is that my family is really, really important to me and it is absolutely breaking my heart to be away from them. I thought because I wasn't married and didn't have children that I somehow didn't have roots and could go where ever I wanted. How stupid am I? My home is my parents and my sisters...not northeast Ohio. They used to tease me about what a Mama's girl I was. When I was little, I hated sleepovers because I got homesick. When I went to girl scout camp, I had to sleep next to the troop leaders or I wouldn't sleep at all. Everyone said I would never move away...and I hated it. I hated thinking I was that needy, that dependent. And now I realize they were right. Sure, it's gotten easier since that first week when I was blocking my door with piles because I didn't trust the deadbolt...but it still doesn't feel right.

People are telling me I haven't given it enough time...but in my experience, when something is this hard to adjust to, it's usually because it isn't right.

Alas, like I already said, I'm not a quitter. So nothing is going to change, except now the whole world knows how I'm feeling. That's okay. I'm kind of an open book anyhow.

Ramble, ramble, ramble

The new blog list has made me realize a lot of people don't update their blogs regularly. Or maybe I just check back too often.

*

I tried to make chicken tacos yesterday, but it was a miserable failure. Today, I will make tortilla soup with the leftovers.

*

Today I get to find out how to make myself eligible to teach undergrad poetry classes next year. I'm really, really looking forward to teaching something other than comp someday.

*

When I moved here, I decided not to get cable. But now that the new season is starting...I might have to change my mind. At least I don't have class on Thursdays.

*

You should vote for Marissa and her fiance. What a cool contest!

*

I don't think I'm going to get a kitten. I'm planning to go back to Ohio for 3 weeks over Christmas break and neither my boyfriend nor my parents are going to want a cat to come live with them. Maybe next semester.

*

I think my sister Beth might be the only one who finds this post entertaining or relevant. But that's okay. My sister Beth is awesome.

Oh, the shame!

I've prided myself for some time now on my ability to organize my life via excel spreadsheets (see here)...but the thing is, it doesn't matter how effective the columns are or how intuitive the color coding is, if you don't update them, they don't work.

The problem is, I can't remember who I got rejections from over the summer. Between the traveling and the packing, the mail got opened and thrown into a pile. Who knows which pile? I think I managed to pay all my bills, but I did not manage to keep track of my rejections.

Now, between my bad records, the fact that I moved, and that I think my last batch of SASEs had $.41 stamps on them, I have a feeling that I'll never know which poems are still out there in the world.

Anybody ever been in this position? Do you query, even though you might have already gotten a rejection? Do you just put those poems aside and wait? Or do you assume the worst and put them back into circulation?

I need a new system anyway. The old one is a mess.

Chapbook News

Many congrats to Greg Wrenn, winner of The Laurel Review / GreenTower Press Midwest Chapbook Series Award!

More importantly, I was a finalist! Sorry, I know that's not very diplomatic of me, but I've never been a finalist before. Woohoo!

This just ain't right

Lately, I've been thinking that kittens are really cute.

Okay, I've always thought kittens were cute. But in a "aww, that's nice, now where's my dog?" kind of way.

I'm not allowed to have a dog in my apartment. Nor do I have a lifestyle that is suited to single-dog-parenting.

I kind of want a kitten.

I hate litter boxes. Even clean ones. But I'm not the cleanest person.

The last cat I had was crazy. He broke things and literally climbed the walls.

I don't think animals should sit on furniture. I don't know how to train cats to stay off the furniture.

Kittens grow up to be cats. I don't think cats are cute. Except, sometimes, they are. When they're little and slinky. But not when they're big and furry.

Does this city just turn people into cat people? Because it seems like everyone has one.

Someone, please talk some sense into me. Someone tell me why dog people shouldn't adopt kittens.

I love the new blog list! I've been wondering where people got them and then, this morning, I finally figured out that it's actually part of blogger. Who knew? Unfortunatley, it took me an hour to transfer my old link list into the new blog list, so I don't have much time for posting.

I think things are finally getting better. I think I am finally starting to find my new rhythms here and to have a little bit of a life. But I'm still sleeping way too much. Transitions are exhausting, apparently.

That's all. More soon.

I'm only happy when it rains

I finally made it to the lake this morning. Maybe I'm strange for deciding to do it on one of the rainiest days since I've been here, but I think this is something I inherited from my mother: a love of restless water. Plus, I'm a dark, angsty poet...walking in the rain is good for my art. : )

Randomness

Somewhere in my building, a fire alarm low-battery beep has been going off for the past 14 hours. I think, perhaps, someone should replace those batteries. I think, if they don't, I will lose what little is left of my sanity.

Mary and I interviewed Steve for BOR. We didn't know about his good news until after.

Someone else has good news, too. But since when were my friends grown up enough to get married? It still seems weird to me, even though I'm almost 28.

I was reading the stuff about Jason Bredle and solicitations this morning and was struck most by this comment JB made: "The thing is, I'm not really trying to publish right now, I'm trying to write." I never really thought about those being two separate processes, things that couldn't happen at the same time, but it is interesting to me to think about it now...to compartmentalize the tasks of writing and publishing might be kind of liberating. Granted, I haven't been doing much of either, but maybe if I picked one or the other, I'd start getting something done. I dunno. I've written two random, trying-to-be-lyric first drafts since school started, and revised one Stella poem that had never been workshopped, but I'm very unsure of where to go next with my work. I sent my chapbook out once at the beginning of the summer and once at the end. That's the extent of my po-biz activity for the past 4 months or so.

My manuscript is kind of like that house that someone decided to remodel but never finished. The wall between the kitchen and the dining room has been torn down, but the studs are still exposed. The new windows are in, but they haven't been framed. Some days, I think I should just put it back the way it was. Some days I want to get out the sledge hammer. Either way, I really should get back to work on it.

And then there's the new stuff. I mean, there should be some new stuff. I don't know what to write about. Before I had my thesis project nailed down, it was really hard to write because I didn't have a "subject". And now that the ms is (almost) finished, I don't know what to write about again. Stella keeps popping up, but if I keep writing new Stella poems, the ms isn't really finished. And if I put Stella to bed, what then? Part of me wants a new project to obsess about, part of me wants to just let the poems come, randomly, and then in a few months I'll sort through and see what's running through them. What makes more sense? I just don't know.

Being a PhD student isn't really helping me be a poet right now, though. I mean, like I said the other day, my workshop seems great, but...it is taking so much less time and energy than my other two classes that it feels a little like an after thought. My comp class is really taking a lot out of me. We have to write two complete syllabi (with daily plans), do three group presentations, and read approx 100-150 pgs of comp theory/comp textbooks every week, plus our final project/paper/presentation, which I haven't even started thinking about. Oh, and we have to do two "internships"-one where we shadow a current comp instructor for five weeks and one where we tutor in the writing lab (okay, when I say "we" here, I mean the rest of the class, because I'm exempt from the tutoring bc I had an assistantship at the writing lab back in the day). Anyhow, the point is this class is taking up a lot of time. More time than teaching would be taking up, probably. And then there's 503: Politics and Aesthetics. Ugh. I'm just praying we read something that makes sense soon.

Wow. I've been blogging for way longer than I planned. I have to get ready to go. ooops.

Two Steps Behind

I've been in Chicago (more or less) for a month, now, and I just can't seem to get a good rhythm going. I'm constantly rushing to finish my homework on time, constantly tired, constantly disoriented. At least it's constant, right?

I haven't been posting much because I'm trying not to be a whiner. Things are good...I'm just not used to them yet. So, in the spirit of being positive, here's a list of things that aren't stressing me out:

• Having dinner with Brandi last Friday, & realizing I am not the only small town girl who was/is freaked out by living in the city
• Peapod grocery delivery.
• It's fall in Chicago. Rainy yesterday, but today, cool, crisp, and sunny. My favorite weather.
• My poetry workshop. It's different than what I'm used to, and I'm still feeling a little blocked, but I think it's going to be very, very good for me.
• Hanging out at Lil' Joes on Wednesday nights. This is an Ohio-esq bar. PBR on tap, cheap food, no loud music. Just loud, drunk English geeks talking about politics, poetry, and gossip. It's almost like going to Pints!

Well, it's a short list, but it's better than nothing, right? I'm hoping every week, every month, every semester will get easier. They call this semester PhD bootcamp around here. I guess, if I can make it through this, I'll be ready for anything. (Ask me how I feel about that 2 years from now when I'm studying for prelims.)

Now, off to read Lukacs. Fun, fun.

Megabus: Mega-bargain?

So, I'm heading back to Chicago after a long holiday weekend at home...and I'm on the bus! Got my ticket for $35 dollars, and so far, so good. Free wireless, no airport-style security, pretty stress free up to this point (except I seem to be getting a little motion sickness). AWPer's, you gotta check this out! They say you can get tickets for as little as $1.

Well, I think it's time to shut down the laptop and take a nap. I'll let you know how the trip was later.

City vs. Country Living: What I've Learned During My First Week in Chicago

1. Animals in the country have better manners. They eat (and poop) in the woods, not on your porch. And they don't leave skanky chicken bones on your lawn chair.
2. In the country, no one serenades you on your way to work (except Justin Timberlake and Carrie Underwood). But in Chicago, the subway minstrel somehow knows who you are and sings "Sara Smiles" as you walk onto the platform.
3. Lack of touch is bad for your immune system. I've decided the cold I have is a direct result of not hugging for seven full days.
4. When you have to carry your groceries home from the store, you lose weight. Who wants to carry a 12 pack of Mountain Dew and a carton of Ben & Jerry's down the street?
5. Even though you're sure your car won't be there when you go looking for it, it's still there. And driving in Chicago isn't that bad as long as you don't cross any bus drivers.
6. Walking home from the el after dark isn't scary at all.
7. Everyone tells you that Chicago is a city with a "Midwestern attitude." If that means not making eye contact and only speaking when forced to, then I guess they're right. But this place is really not as friendly as people said it would be.
8. Everyone has a long commute, so using "I have an hour long train ride" as an excuse for the cushy teaching schedule isn't going to work.
9. Going to the bar after class is a lot more expensive here, but you can drink more because you don't have to drive home.
10. It is entirely possible to convince yourself that Chicago is nothing more than your 4 block walk to the el and the immediate vicinity of the UIC campus, but if you do this, you will regret it.

The Baby is Hungry

A couple of nights ago, I had a dream that I had a baby--well, a toddler--and I didn't know how to feed it. When I realized the child was hungry and I couldn't do anything about it, I was so overcome with guilt that it woke me up. So, no, I'm not pregnant...and I think the baby is a stand-in for poetry.

When I signed on for the crazy BBQ job, I imagined myself grabbing every spare minute to read or write, but I found myself doing very little of that. OK, I did read a few books this summer, but for the most part, I spent my down time sleeping, going out to eat with the crew, and on the phone with people at home. Many, many things were working against me: the 14-16 hour workdays, my crazy, spoiled, Russian princess of a roommate, the homesickness. And when I was home, well, it was usually for less than 48 hours and I spent most of it doing laundry and sleeping. The longer breaks didn't come until the end of the summer when it was time to start packing.

Anyhow, you, dear readers, are not my mother (well, one of you is) and are not my priest, so I guess I don't have to explain my guilt away like this. The point is, poetry got bumped this summer, and not because I didn't feel it was important, but because I couldn't find the emotional or physical energy to dedicate to it. And now, it's the day before fall semester begins and I don't feel like a poet at all.

I'm currently inundated with theory: Kant, Hegel, various composition texts, and still trying to adjust to this new city, which is, to say the least, overwhelming. I want to write, but I feel that other things are more pressing. I want to write, but I'm afraid I've forgotten how. I don't know how to feed the baby.

I've been joking to Boyfriend that my second ms is going to be called Lonely Country Girl in Chicago. Not a great title, and I imagine a pretty boring read...but the weird thing is that I can't even seem to eek out one of my old-style, overly sentimental poems. It's pretty bad when writer's block extends to the narcissitic, catharsis-inducing poems I've always reverted to in the past.

So, here's my question, folks: what do you do when the muse has taken a leave of absence? How do you tap into your inner poet when things like practicality and critical texts get in the way of your imagination? And, for those of you who have done or are doing the PhD thing...how do you balance being a scholar and an artist?

Prompt answers are appreciated...I have to have a new poem for workshop on Wednesday. : )

Moving to Chicago: A Photo Essay

The sky was falling over Indiana the day I picked up my keys. That night, they cancelled the Cubs game because of tornado warnings and torrential rain. Boyfriend & I waited out the storm in the pink-lighted Nick's Uptown, the closest bar to my new place.

Many thanks to ZS for the table-top inspiration. Boyfriend wants to remain annonymous, although most of my faithful readers are also facebook friends (or real life friends) and know who he is anyhow.
Me: tired, frizzy-haired, trying to play the role of detached urbanite.
And the studio. It's pretty spacey now that I have everything (almost everything) put away, but I'm still having trouble getting used to sleeping five feet away from my front door.
Here's the alley my balcony looks out on. Not much of a view, but I feel a little like a character from West Side Story when I'm out there.
Last but not least, something Akron definitely doesn't have: authentic Italian food (even cannoli!) delivered right to your front door! This is the Pasta Romantica, minus the shitake mushrooms, from Fornello. (I don't have a kitchen table yet, so for the time being, I'm eating at my desk.)

All in all, if you ignore my random sobbing fits, things are going well. I'm having some trouble adjusting, but everyone seems friendly (with the exception of the receptionist in my building--the one person who is paid to be nice) and the el is all right as long as I avoid rush hour, and I think I'm really going to enjoy the program...which is, after all, the reason I'm here. So, if you catch me weeping, don't worry. I'm just processing.

First Night

So, this is my first night alone in the big city. I'm a little nervous. I think, if I remember right, I'm always a little nervous my first night in a new place, but I'm extra nervous this time. Lots of strange noises at night around here. Lots of scary squirrels and raccoons (one of which likes to poop on my balcony) and who knows what else out there. Hopefully the exhaustion beats the anxiety, because I have to get up early for orientation tomorrow.

More later. With pictures. And maybe a mention or two of poetry if we're lucky.

I don't know if you noticed...

but there's a slight change of location in my profile. That's right, folks, I officially live in Chicago ...although I'm typing this from lovely West Akron. After a summer of living out of my suitcase, this is my last trip before I buckle down and start working on my PhD.

I'm not sure I have anything interesting to say right now, I just needed a blog fix. I'm happily done with my summer job from hell and almost ready to start the next phase of my life...but not before I try to say goodbye to some folks around here. I'm not very good at goodbyes, and I've never had to do it in such large quantities. There are going to be some tears this weekend, that's for sure.

Oh, I'm too tired for this. I'm sure I'll be back to my regular blogging habits in a week or two and will update you all on the move/new school/etc.

Down time in Des Moines

A year ago, I was preparing for my trip to Bisbee, which turned out to be one of the most productive weeks of my writing life. This year, I'm killing time in random cities, random hotels, and not preparing enough for my move to Chicago.

I did find out this week that I got the apartment (studio) in Buena Park, so I've been spending a lot of time on Ikea's website, googling "small room organizing," and reading decorating magazines. I think I'm going to buy this loft, which is big enough for a double bed, and make a little writing nook under it. I don't know what I'm going to do about a couch yet...maybe nothing. I know I am trying to move as little furniture as possible so I don't have to rent a truck and try to drive it through Chicago. Who knows, maybe I'll have enough cash left to buy one of Ikea's cute little loungers, too, and then I'll have somewhere for guests to crash. If everyone who says they're going to come visit really does, I'll have someone crashing every weekend until Christmas!

The BBQ thing is getting old. There's been a lot of drama and a lot of...I don't know what else to call it but bad karma. One of our crew broke his hand in two places, there were two awful storms last week and our whole tent blew over during one of them, we got a flat tire on our way to Iowa yesterday. It's just one thing after another. It's hard working outside: it's either too hot, too windy, or too rainy. We've had one or two perfect days, but usually I'm sweating my butt off or wearing a sweatshirt and chasing napkins around. And then there's the customers. I forgot how much I hate working with the public. A lot of people tell me that I'm a "people person," but I think I'm just good at pretending. The truth is, 90% of the people I've encountered this summer I wouldn't want to again. Is it so hard, really, to make up your mind while you're standing in line for 30 minutes so you don't have to stand at the counter going, "umm, well, do I want ribs or chicken?" And seriously, don't ever talk on your phone and make me wait until you're done. There are 40 hungry, cranky people behind you, and one tired, cranky person in front of you, and if you keep talking, we're all going to hurt you. One more thing and then I'm done ranting. If it's windy and you put your money/napkins/any other paper product on the counter, it's going to blow away. Duh. At this point, I think it's safe to say I will have no desire to ever attend another outdoor festival. At least not one where food is the main attraction.

The rest of the summer should go by pretty quickly, though. Maybe too quickly. I have 2 more weeks of work, then a week off in which I will pack and drive to Chicago to pick up my keys and drop off some stuff. Then I have to work 4 days, and then I'm off until Labor Day...but during that time, I'll be moving the rest of my stuff, driving home for my going away party, driving (or taking the train) back for orientation...you get the drift. The next six weeks are going to be rough. I guess I'll probably survive, though.

In the mean time, I haven't written any poems this summer, haven't made any submissions, and haven't started writing the article that I was asked to write back in May. So, hopefully I will be able to steal a few hours for writing before school starts. Hopefully. Speaking of...maybe blogging isn't the best use of my time. Huh.

I miss my real life.

The end.

Odd, I know...

but this post actually has something to do with poetry!

I have new work up at keep going, a super-sweet on-line mag. Many, many thanks to the editors.


*

In other news, the apartment search might be over. I applied for a cute little studio in Buena Park today. That neighborhood was not on my list, but it looked safe, and the apartmentpeople swore it was just like Lakeview. I wish I could post pictures, but my new phone and I are having issues with email.

Let me tell you, all my fears about living in the city & relying on public transportation are completely valid!!! I think I've got twice as much gray hair as I did yesterday, and my nerves are shot. When I move, I'm going to learn the route from my front door to UIC and then I'm going to be a recluse for the rest of the time. Here's just one example of my ineptness: It took me 45 minutes to get from Union Station to the Wells/Washington el stop. They're four blocks apart. Note to self: don't ask coffee girl at Union Station for directions. She don't know any more than you do.

Cook-Off Candids

Dear Readers, here are some snapshots from life on the road.

First, the day I got electrocuted. Someone should have reminded me that metal + water + power lines is not a good combination. Winston-Salem, NC:
Next, Valeria, our Russian front counter girl. She's 19, very smart and not lacking in attitude either. We share a hotel room on the road, where every morning she forces me to listen to Avril Levigne. Ugh. She taught me how to say bitch in Russian. It's suka. That's phonetic spelling, by the way.

Last time I did the BBQ thing, I met Al Gore. This time, JoDee Messina. I was actually pretty psyched. She said her necklace smelled like pennies. Then she kicked ass on stage. I know country music isn't really cool these days, but this chick can sing.
My hotel room in Kansas City was on the 26th floor. This is the view from my room.

Also in Kansas City: Tami dances circles around Brisket Bob during the Los Lonely Boys concert. Tami is my favorite.
And the legendary Brisket Bob. He's been flipping ribs (and formerly Brisket, obviously) for 20-some years.

Do you miss me, Blogland?

I'm in Kansas City today, killing time before the cook-off opens. It's unusal that I have a day where I don't have to be at work by 9:30, so I'm enjoying the downtime. In a minute, I'm going to go sit by the pool and work on my ms. Right now, I'm on the public computer at the hotel bc I got tired of lugging my laptop around and only having five minutes to check email a day. Nobody told me that the cook-off opens at 4 here. I would have brought it if I'd know.

The pics over at Mary's (too lazy for links, you all know Mary) of the BOR Poetry Editors' meeting are making me want to cry. I'm so sick of missing all the good stuff.

So...I'm probably going to hell for this, but I may be the only person in the world who is happy about the flooding in Cedar Rapids. Don't get me wrong--my heart goes out to those who are impacted by this disaster--but it means I get a very badly needed week off. During that week off, I'll be hanging out with the family, working on poetry, and posting some pics of my crazy summer. Hopefully I'll remember to snap some of the flooding Missori river on the way home. Pretty crazy.

A Post with Substance

Here's the situation, folks. I'm sitting in a hotel room in Jamestown, NY, with two guys who are watching the game/Southpark and giggling like a couple of 12 year olds, and I'm trying to listen to Eva Cassidy on my headphones, but Southpark is louder, and if I turn up the headphones anymore, my eardrums will explode. It's not a bad situation, really, but I'd rather be home. (Oh, and I'm the only girl on this trip except the manager, so I'm rooming with a boy. Oy.)

Today, we hit 71 at 7am, pulled in around 11, and were finished setting up by 2. That means I got my regular daily pay for about 3 hours of work. That's a good thing. The bad thing is I get paid the same regardless of how much I work, and a lot of days, it's 9am to 12am. Sometimes only 10 to 10. I knew what I was getting into, don't get me wrong, but 27 is a lot older than 18 and I sure don't have the energy I did back then.

So this is set up: we put up a tent which is about 10x15, then add 20' worth of overhead signs and 2 six foot wings. We unload the box truck--4 gallon boxes of BBQ sauce, boxes of baked beans that weigh about 20 pounds each, etc. Last week, we had to load the freezer trailer first, which involved taking 80 cases of ribs out of one freezer and putting them into another. What I'm trying to get at here is that this is not the desk jobs I'm used to. I'm whipped. And my legs are covered in bruises. Today I walked into the trailer hitch and have a knot about the size of a softball just above my knee. Tomorrow, it's supposed to be almost 90, and if the humidity today was any indication, I'll probably be melting around 3 p.m. Yay.

So, sometimes a girl just needs to whine, right? I guess I do a lot of that. I'm a little frustrated because everything is happening so quickly and I don't have time to process or deal with most of it. There are little bits of sanity, too, though. Like making dinner last night on the grill and sitting on the porch after. Like finding time while I'm on the road to work on my chapbook and take some notes for reordering the full length ms. Reading a Stephen King novel when I don't want to think. And the people I work with, although not anything like the people in the other parts of my life, are good people. Kind, hardworking people who like to have a good time. I'm trying hard to appreciate what I'm going through--as my mother likes to tell me, it's all about attitude--but I do miss the kind of summer I've gotten used to since starting grad school: three or four hours of reading every morning, afternoons writing, evenings going to class or hanging out with friends. I suppose, in a sense, I'm paying for that now, since the loan money is gone. (Which reminds me, I need to do my FAFSA for the fall!) At any rate, I'm in this thing until labor day weekend, so I guess I better buck up and get used to it.

Where I'll Be

Karen, this is for you:

Jamestown Rib Fest

Back on the road tomorrow at 6 am. Better finish packing.

BOR Updates

Hey folks, lots of good stuff going on in the Owl's nest. Check it out:

• Contributor Interview # 3, with Bernadette Geyer, is up and running.
• The Masthead is growing. Welcome Adam, Tobin, John and Emily!
• And most importantly, we are now accepting submissions for BOR #2. See full guidelines here.

*

In other news, I'm home for 3 whole days! I'll probably find some time during those days to write something a little more substantial.

On the Road Update

Oh, how I miss my normal life! I'm in Erie, PA this week and I gotta say, this is a strange little city. Sorry to anyone who lives here, but people are odd!

Anyhow, there's really not much to tell, and although I've had my camera with me, I haven't taken any pictures yet. Mostly, I just stand behind the counter and sell food, or sit behind the trailer and smoke. Booorrrring.

On the upside, I've been reading John Ashbery's A Worldly Country on my breaks. It's the first poetry I've had time to read in a while, so my brain is going a little crazy with it. I haven't read a lot of Ashbery before, just the anthologized stuff, and I didn't realize how difficult it would be. I'm enjoying the thinking, though. Thinking is good.

Looking forward to being home for a little bit this coming week. I'm 6 days into 9 days straight of working 10-10 (except Tuesday, I only had to work 12-5) and ready for a break.

BTW, friends, you should give me a call when you're bored. I have lots of time to talk!

A girl and her (borrowed) horse

I said goodbye to Banjo (and his "mom," Karla) last night. I've really, really enjoyed re-learning how to handle and ride this horse and I'm going to miss it immensely when I'm gone. It's strange to say that, I suppose, since I haven't made time to get out to the farm since last August--but I know it's there and if I have a free evening, I can give Karla a call and be in the barn in just over an hour. But not in Chicago. I suppose I might be lucky enough to find someone with a few horses and enough patience to teach a clumsy horse lover, but they won't have the beautiful views of south-eastern Ohio like the one below.

Oh, and speaking of clumsy...I had my first fall last night. Flew right out of the damn saddle. Luckily, I'm good at falling, and today, all I have to show for it are a couple of bruises and a sore knee. As I sat there in the dust, looking up at Banjo (who looks, um, well, massive when you're on the ground), all I could think about was the good old cliche about falling off and getting back in the saddle. You know, things can only become cliche if they're true, right? So even though I was shaking and sore, I got back up and rode again. And I'm not even a little bit scared to do it again.

A post in which the author braves public transportation in the windy city

It was definitely too early for me to look for August apartments, but I wouldn't say my trip to Chicago was wasted. I found Jake's Pub, a great little bar in Lakeview (or was it East Lakeview?) with an Ohioan bartender, and I experimented a bit with CTA--took the Blue Line from Logan Square to UIC, and besides the faint smell of urine didn't have too bad of a time. I also rode a few different buses, but I don't recommend taking the Halsted bus from UIC to Broadway at 3pm...45 minutes with loud high school students is a little much. I knew I should have tried the el again, but I was tired of reading maps and knew Halsted was a straight shot.

Meanwhile, back home, the Colt was hosting Mary B's birthday party. Already, I'm missing the fun in Akron for Chicago...sigh. Luckily, Brandi was there to celebrate my visit, and we sent this blurry camera photo to Mary with birthday wishes. I never got my real camera out of my backpack...don't know why, though. I'm going to have to remember to take some good Chicagoland pics soon.

On the apartment front, no one is listing August openings yet, but I still went to look at a couple of studios in Logan Square. The first building we looked at was too small and kinda smelly, but the second building wasn't bad. There was exposed brick in one room and a tiny little back porch, plus a good sized walk-in closet. I spent most of this evening browsing Craigslist, and as much as this is against my natural, plan-as-far-ahead-as-possible tendencies, it looks like waiting until the last minute and finding something there is going to be my best bet. I might try to go look again in July, though. Oh, how I hate not knowing where I'm going to live!

Just six days until I start working for the summer, and I still haven't gotten anything accomplished. Tomorrow I'm going to be productive, I swear. Really, I do.

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.

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

Happy Mother's Day!

Treading Water

I'm always glad when a semester is over, but this time, there's no peaceful break following it up. I have 9 days off before I start my whirlwind summer job and the second that slows down, I'm packing up and moving to Chicago. 9 days would be a pretty nice vacation, except it's not. Going to look for apartments next week, and trying to get some poems (and maybe a manuscript and/or a chapbook) in the mail before I start work so that I don't forget about being a poet.

There's a super exciting Barn Owl Review event tonight (check out the details over at Mary's), but for the sake of my sanity, I'm punking out. Speaking of BOR--my dear interview volunteers, I haven't forgotten you and I will be getting in touch this coming week before I start work. Bernadette Geyer is on-deck. She's been so patient and hopefully her interview will be posted by the end of next week.

So, as I mentioned above, I'm going to look for apartments next week. I'm only going to be in Chicago for a day and a half, but hopefully that's enough time to find something that A) is in my price-range and B) is not in a scary neighborhood so that I can put down a deposit. I think my stress level will drop significantly if I know I have someplace safe to live come August. I'm also a little stressed about whether or not I'm going to be in a studio or a 1 bedroom. I guess it doesn't really matter at this point, but if I'm in a studio, nephew/roommate is going to have to tap into his frat house experience and build me a loft for my bed. I'm sure I'll have photos and updates for you next week.

And as promised, here is my schedule for the summer. I know I'll be near some of my blogging buddies, and would love to see a familiar face while I'm out on the road.

May 23-26: Cleveland
May 28-31: Erie, PA
June 12-14: Winston-Salem, NC
June 20-22: Kansas City, MO
June 26-29: Cedar Rapids, Iowa
July 3-6: Naperville, IL
July 10-13: Lake in the Hills, IL
July 17-20: Des Moines, Iowa
July 24-27: Columbus, OH
August 7-10: Toledo, OH
August 29-Sept. 1: Indianapolis

Well, I think that's all. Owls, have fun tonight! Sorry I'm lame.

When Blogland Enters Dreamland

I don't often remember my dreams...and when I do remember them, I don't usually remember details. So imagine my surprise when I wake up from my afternoon nap yesterday and remember that I had a dream about Charles Jensen.

Here's the scenario. Charlie (I hope I can call you Charlie, that's what I was calling you in the dream) is having a dinner party in some gigantic, Titanic-esq hotel and someone I want to impress is going to be at this party (don't remember that part, nooo). So, I'm in a bit of a hurry because I don't want to miss my opportunity to impress this person or to upset Mr. Jensen, who so graciously invited me to his party. I'm running through this enormous hotel and I can't find the elevators and I can't find the suite where the party is, except, when I do, it looks more like the facade part of a ride at Cedar Point or Disney Land than a fancy hotel. It's all log cabiny with ramps going back and forth along the front (and I'm thinking "this doesn't seem classy enough for Charles Jensen" the whole time I'm walking up and down these ramps).

Finally, I get inside and I'm sweaty from the sprint through the ginormous hotel, so I ask if I can go clean up before dinner. When I go into the bathroom and flick the switch, the water comes on with the lights. And I'm not in a normal bathroom--I'm in one of those fancy showers with 18 faucets--and I keep flipping switches and pressing buttons but they all just turn on another faucet, they don't turn anything off. Before I figure out what the eff is going on, I'm soaked and the bathroom is flooded, and everyone at this party (which is now AWP, by the way) is pissed at me.

On my way out of the flooded bathroom, I run into the Important Person, who very nicely tells me that I'm all wet and maybe I should change. So I start running through Hotel Gigantor again and again, I can't find the elevators or my room. I just keep running. And I miss Charlie's dinner party.

I bet it was a good party.