Learning my limits

While I was on the bus Friday, I read 4 articles (approx 100 pgs). Saturday, I read (okay, skimmed) 2.5 books (approx 600 pgs). Sunday I reread two essays from one of the books I skimmed on Saturday (40 pages) and then, well, spent the next two hours reading about 4 pages of a third article. I never managed to finish because words had lost all meaning and my eyes were crossing.

What I learned: My brain cannot hold any more than 700 pages worth of information in any given weekend.

I didn't get any actual writing done, but that's okay because my Monday night seminar is canceled today, so I can do it tonight (and tomorrow). There are few things in the world more joy-inducing than a last minute class cancellation. That's all I have to say about that.

Good luck charm?

Yesterday, a bird pooped on me.

I was sitting outside trying to calm down before class--I was fired up about the lousy feedback I got on that paper last week and anxious about going before the firing squad with the next one--and had just started to cry a little (Press pause for a minute here. I think people who don't cry a lot just don't get this. It's like turning a valve to let some pressure out, that's all. It's not always bc we're sad. Got it?) Okay, so I'd just started to cry a little, and splat! there's bird crap on my brand new jacket.

Bird crap will snap you out of a funk pretty quick if you have any sense of humor at all. And I guess mine is still in tact, because I giggled, got up, went inside to clean it off, and went on with my day.

My presentation was only a little bit painful, and now it's over. But I'm still a little raw about it. And not looking forward to writing my seminar paper for this course if it's going to get the same kind of critique. I'm learning, right? I'll be better next semester.

This reminds me of something I was talking to a friend about while waiting for the train last night. As Ph.D. students, we're in this strange position where some profs treat us like colleagues and others treat us like students. And then there are some who treat us like students but expect us to operate on the same level as colleagues. Eh, this is all getting kind of convoluted, but here's what I'm trying to get at: I'm not as well read as my profs, I'm not as experienced as a teacher, and I've never done a panel presentation where people asked questions to try to implode my argument--and I'd like for someone to teach me, or at least let me know what the expectations are before I'm in water above my head and just barely floating.

I admit, a big part of this is my fault--I don't ask for help until I'm in trouble. But part of that is that I'm usually good at school stuff and don't need help. After I screw up, well, then I know to ask for help, but up until that point, I think I can get by the way I always do.

I'm trying to turn this into a learning experience instead of what it feels like right now: that I've been slapped on the wrist and and sent to the corner to think about what I've done. I know it's not that personal, but it just feels shitty. So...how do I make that productive? How do I laugh at the bird poop on my jacket and then get to work on my next paper?

What I'm Reading - #1

As promised, here's a brief look at what I'm reading this week.

Just Because:

Pink, Daniel H., A Whole New Mind, Riverhead Books, 2005.

Pink claims that “Right-brainers” will be the most sought-after and successful employees in what he calls the Conceptual Age (which follows the information age). MFAs will be the new MBAs, he says, and empathy, creativity, and “joyfulness” are some of the key skills we all need to brush up on to stay competitive. I'm only about 60 pages in--I'll let you know if he comes up with anything useful.

For Class:

Moxley, Jennifer, The Sense Record, Edge, 2002.

My first impression of The Sense Record was that despite some really powerful, beautiful poems, the collection as a whole wasn’t for me. Many poems seemed to be overly expository, others too theoretical for my taste. After class discussion last night though, I realized that I missed a lot of what Moxley was setting out to do because my background in poetry just isn’t strong enough. Some of the criticism was helpful (see below), but I will be coming back to this collection after I’ve brushed up on my American poetry pre-1980.* Moxley makes allusions to Wordsworth and Whitman that flew right over my head, and now that I know they’re there, I may be able to take a little more away from what I’ve read. Also in this collection: ars poetica, feminism, critique of the academy, etc., Language poetry meets lyric poetry (?)... I'm feeling terribly inarticulate here, and know I'm not giving this book a fair shake. I'll be reading it again and revising my notes, hopefully before the end of the semester.

Bartlett, Lee, "What is 'Language Poetry'?" Critical Inquiry 12, 1986.

Language poetry is a reaction to/critique of "the workshop poem" and the "organizing I" in confessional poetry, yadda, yadda, yadda. Here's what I don't get: why can't we all just write the kind of poetry we want to write?

To be fair, what I did find interesting/instructive is the emphasis on deconstruction, text "as a play of subtexts," and the importance of signification and sound.

Also interesting: what I thought was Language Poetry is not Language Poetry, although I'm still not sure what is.

Burt, Stephen, “The Elliptical Poets,” American Letters and Commentary, 1999 (?).

In this short essay, Burt identifies a school of poetry that follows Language poetry and is characterized by “Fragmentation, jumpiness, audacity, performance, grammatical oddity, rebellion, voice, [and] some measure of closure.” Some poets he names to this school are Ann Carson, C.D. Wright, Liam Rector, Mark Levine, Lucie Brock-Broido, among others. Rather than paraphrasing, I’ll just quote his conclusion, which ties things up nicely:

[Elliptical poets] want to convey both metaphysical challenge and recognizable, seen and tasted, detail. Ellipticists reject: poems written in order to demonstrate theories; scene-painting, and prettiness as its own end; slogans; authenticity and wholeheartedness; mysticism; straight-up narrative; and extended abstraction […]. Elliptical poets are uneasy about (less often, hostile to) inherited elites and privileges, but they are not populists, and won’t write down to, or connect the dots for, their readers; their difficulty conveys respect.

I also read, but won't bore you with summaries of:

• Oren Izenberg's "Language Poetry and Collective Life"
• Marjorie Perloff's "After Language Poetry: Innovation and its Theoretical Discontents"
• OEI's special "After Language Poetry" issue, with short essays by poets including Moxley, Peter Gizzi, Kenneth Goldsmith, and others

*Yes, I know. It's shameful that I am only well versed in contemporary poetry. I focused heavily on fiction as an undergrad and am trying to make up for it little-by-little. That's why I'm getting a PhD.

Manuscript Madness and "Old" Poetry

I've been fiddling with my ms for the last couple of weeks. Changing line breaks and other small details but nothing big. I have about 3 drafts that I think might fit, but they're not done and my revising isn't going very quickly. I've cut out a few poems that I don't think are right. Shuffled the order a bit.

Something tells me I am subconsciously moving very slowly so I miss the last few contests before summer. Something tells me I should make the changes I marked this morning, print the whole thing, and stick it in an envelope. Be done with it--for now. Because otherwise I will constantly tell myself it isn't quite ready until I get to the point where I hate the whole thing. And then my first book will never get published.

Goal: Print and mail by Thursday. No, Friday. Print by Thursday, mail by Friday. That's the goal.

*

When I started grad school, I knew very little about contemporary poetry. I'd read a bit of Plath, a bit of Bishop, but very little newer. Since then, I've been focusing on the last 60 years or so. Now, I seem to have forgotten everything I read as an undergrad.

I don't remember anything about romanticism. I barely remember Dickinson. My new reading project is to refresh my memory on the "old" stuff. Pre-1950. As far back as I can go. Maybe start with Beowulf again and work my way back up. I want to be ready when I start school again in the fall. I don't want to have to pretend I know what people are talking about--I want to actually know it.

There is a Ph.D. in my future and I still feel like I'm faking it. Does it ever get easier? Do brains expand to hold more information? Because sometimes, I feel like I'm saturated. Like if I learn something new, I'll have to forget something I used to know to make space.

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.

*

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.

Crap

I don't know half of what I should.

When are they going to find a way to inject information intravenously? Why can't I just download someone's brain into mine?


Addendum:


For those of my readers whose brains I would like to download-

Do you ever feel this way? What have you read to fix it? What haven't I read that you think I should? (I haven't read much, so tell me even if it seems obvious.)


Why the questions? I'm trying to make a reading list for myself of stuff I probably should have read already.

Maybe I should just start here:

For example, here's a list of books on these shelves that I haven't read yet:

• To Kill a Mocking Bird - Harper Lee
• War and Peace - Tolstoy
• My Antonia - Willa Cather
• The Wasteland & Other Poems - Eliot
• Easter 1916 and Other Poems - Yeats

just checking in

I hate to leave my blog un-updated for so long, so a quick post before I get to work.

I turned in the rental application for a pretty nice townhouse this morning. We'll know tomorrow if we're approved, and if so, I'll be moving as soon as the semester is over. I'm alternately super excited and dreading having to pack and move. The super excited part lasts longer, though.

I'm writing my term papers about Simone Muench and we've been emailing back and forth. How cool is the internet? (And your profs introducing you to their writer friends?) I couldn't have imagined using the author of a book as a source when I was an undergrad. I also sent her a few of my poems and I am beyond excited about what she had to say about them.

In addition to the wonderful insights from Simone, I've been reading a lot of feminist criticism to get ready for these papers. I even bought a copy of Gilbert & Gubar's Madwoman in the Attic (although I haven't had a chance to read any of it). I also read an essay called "Why Contemporary Poetry isn't Taught in the Academy" (or something like that) by Michael McIrvin that really got me thinking. I'll post more on that later. It's strange how sometimes I "get" what I read and sometimes it all sounds like gibberish. But I feel like I'm learning something (or maybe "gaining comprehension" is a better way to describe what's going on in my head) so I guess that's the point, right? Maybe feminist criticism isn't the puzzle I thought it was at the beginning of the semester.

Like a Virgin

Every week, I rush to get my reading, grading, and class plans done so that I can focus on my poems for a day or two. I carry around a folder marked "THESIS" in big black letters. I keep an excel spreadsheet full of poem titles, revision dates, submission dates, rejections, editors, publications, themes, where they're saved on my computer...and I update this on an almost daily basis. I have become neurotic about poems. neurotic about my thesis, a chapbook, a manuscript...which is which? where do the poems belong? does everything I put in my thesis have to end up in a book? where are the rest of the poems going to come from, and when?

I don't know if it is because I am consumed by this idea of being "A Poet" or if it is an actual problem, but things are just not moving fast enough for me. Strange thing is, I've written two or three poems in the last couple weeks that I really like and think are ready to send out--which doesn't usually happen so quickly--yet I'm frustrated, tired of waiting for inspiration to strike, tired of waiting for ideas to come to me. Aren't I poet enough to make the poems come at will?

I sent out a bunch of poems at the end of winter break, and most of them have come back to me already (which is what I wanted), rejected. That's okay. I know I'm just starting out and I know that rejections are part of the gig. I'm not complaining. But, now that I'm in the business of collecting rejection letters, I also need to be in the business of sending things back out. And I'm having a terrible time deciding which poems to put together and which journals to submit to. I was just reading Kristy's thoughts on on-line vs. print journals (a debate which I was only vaguely aware of) and I'm realizing there are journals that I "should" want to get into more than others. I don't really have any heirarchy in mind--except whether or not I like the stuff I see in them. Maybe I'm not paying enough attention to what is going on around me. Maybe I should know that journal A has a better reputation that journal B. But I don't. And I kinda want to keep it that way. Maybe it's altruistic, but I think if my work has merit, it will be appreciated regardless of where it is published (or where my degree is from--which is important since I'm getting my MFA from a relatively unheard of program).

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm having a little "coming of age" moment as a poet. I'm still excited, more excited than I can explain, to be writing and trying to get published and feeling proud when I tell people that I write because finally I can say yes when they ask if I'm published. However, I'm also becoming aware for the first time of the politics involved, of the strategy behind submissions, and that no matter how much I want it to be, it's not just about the work. I've always been good at working the system, learning the rules and making them work for me, so I'm not worried. But I am a little sad. Just like when I was 18 and realized that my first "true love" wasn't going to last forever. It opens up a world of opportunity, but leaves behind an innocence and naivete that I'm going to miss.

Well, I think that's enough pontification before breakfast.

Aggravated in Akron

When I sign up for a class called Contemporary American Women Poets, I want to read and talk about poetry. Not feminist criticism. Just like when I sign up for a poetry workshop, I don't want to spend 15 weeks writing ekphrastic poems. I'm starting to think that all profs should provide their syllabus for prospective students when it is time to register for classes because I am tired of getting schnookered into classes that I'm not interested in.

So far, in this CAWP class, we've read Stein, HD, Marianne Moore, Rukeyser, and Bishop. But, during our class meetings, we've discussed Saussere, Derrida, Gilbert & Gubar, Cixous, Freud, Lacan, etc. I'm okay with using theory to supplement my reading, but it seems the other way around. Let's just talk about some poems, please!

Meanwhile, I am not keeping up with my goal to write one new poem and revise one old poem every week. That seemed do-able at the beginning of the semester, but already I'm swamped. It's the middle of week 4. There's only 11 left. Not enough time!! Well, at least that means there's only 11 weeks left until Ohio is no longer a frozen tundra. I don't know why they call this spring semester, anyway.

I'm sorry, faithful readers (all four of you), for being so whiny. I'll try to post a happy blog tomorrow.

Thursday's Random Thoughts

• This tiny bit of poetic success I'm having is addictive...and very motivating. Suddenly, it is so much easier to put things in the mail. I just wish there was more time!
• I've got two new poems in the works. Neither of them are about my family. Not sure what to do with that in regards to my thesis. I'm thinking sections, but we'll see.
• In the last two weeks, I've been introduced (reintroduced?) to Gertrude Stein, H.D., and Marianne Moore. I am finding I'm not a huge fan of imagists/modernists, but I'm trying to find the merit, because obviously hundreds of very smart people think they were great poets. But, I'm excited because soon we will be talking about Plath and Sexton, and they make me happy (in a very sad sort of way).
• I have a couple of hecklers in my comp class. They sit in the back row, whisper, and giggle. I am pretty sure they are whispering and giggling about me. I'm trying to pretend I don't notice until I figure out a way to shame them into behaving that doesn't make me look like an insecure fool.
• I am having a corn dog and leftover rice for dinner (time to go grocery shopping!)

Back to school, back to school

You won't get that if you're not obsessed with Adam Sandler like I am...

And I thought I was the only NEOMFAer with a blog...Hi Jessica! and Amy!

Have I told you guys I love teaching? I do. Met my class for the first time today, and I'm so excited I don't want to wait 24 hours for day 2. Sadly, I haven't invented a time machine yet, so I'll just have to wait.

Two of my students want to be writers when they grow up.

One of my students is preggers and due in March. Not sure how that's going to work. I hope she doesn't end up dropping.

I told them I don't teach grammar, and one student raised his hand and asked, "well, then how are you going to grade our papers?"

On to being a student...

I am afraid of my lit class. Not because it will be difficult, but because it is more feminist theory than I expected...and for some reason, I have a problem with feminism. I mean, yeah, it's great that I can vote and own property and be anything I want to be, and I appreciate all the hard work that women of previous generations put in so that I can have those rights, but as a literary theory, I think it is...weird. Maybe I just don't understand. Maybe I will by the end of the semester.

I have to read Gertrude Stein tonight. Somehow, I've made it through six years of post-secondary education without ever doing so before. We'll see how it goes.

Still thinking about PhDs. Had a nice talk with AA about it yesterday and am feeling more optimistic.

I'm officially working on my thesis. Yikes! But I'm trying to have fun with it instead of stressing myself out. We'll see how that goes.

That's all for today. Lot's of homework to do.