it's all downhill from here...

It's that time of the semester...you know, when your days are filled with equal parts panic and procrastination, when you know (because it's happened every semester for the past five years) that you will somehow finish everything even though you can't actually imagine how. The momentum of the semester is such that you can't quite keep up with your laundry or your dirty dishes, but you can find time to watch Grey's Anatomy reruns (again) and take two or three naps while you're "reading." ...when you take a half-hour to update your blog because, clearly, that's the best use of your time.

So, some updates.

Learning Italian
At the moment, I'm at New Wave Coffee, where in a little while I'll be meeting Federica, my Italian conversation partner. This is only our second meeting and quite possibly our last. This is for a couple of reasons, one being that I can't really see myself having time for another meeting before the end of the semester, which I think is when she returns to Italy; the other is that it turns out I don't get to take any more Italian classes, so the urgency to learn has fizzled. I wasn't using very much foresight when I decided to take 4 semesters of a 4-day-a-week class...as a grad student/TA, I just don't have enough control over my schedule. The class I need to finish my coursework on time conflicts with all three sections of Italian 102 next semester.

When found out about this conflict, I started looking into my other options and found out that the Spanish translation test is probably well within my abilities, so that's the new plan. Maybe someday I'll be able to go back and really learn Italian, but it's not going to be possible while I'm getting my PhD.

Intro to Poetry
I think I've learned way more in this class than any of my students, but that's okay. They're improving, they're writing interesting stuff, and they seem to be enjoying themselves. I can't ask for much more my first time out of the gate. In the future, I think I'll spend a lot more time preparing my materials and will without a doubt use a real textbook instead of a course packet. I also don't think I'll spend quite as much time workshopping if I teach this class again. It feels like we're repeating the same conversation every day, every poem, and the students would probably be learning more if we were doing different types of writing exercises, if we continued to read published work throughout the semester, etc. Like I said, I think I've learned a lot more than my students.

Workshop
I'm stumped. I turned in a revision last week that AW hated, completely tore to shreds, and I'm afraid now to revise the rest of the poems for the portfolio. It's so strange how some days she compliments what I'm doing and other days she just throws up her hands. I think one thing I gained during my MFA was the ability to defend my work even when a reader (mentor, even) didn't like what I was doing--but this past year or so has diminished that ability...I don't trust my gut anymore, and so I don't trust my work. I just want to finish a poem and be sure it's done, ready to be out in the world...and I can't remember the last time I felt that way.

Next Semester
The class that makes it impossible for me to continue with Italian is in Renaissance lit. It's not one of my main areas of interest, but it's a real, honest-to-goodness lit class: we'll be reading plays and stories and poems and not just theory! I can't begin to tell you how excited I am about that. I'm also taking two workshops, one poetry (with Christina Pugh) and one non-fiction (with Luis Urrea). It may not be a good idea to take 3 grad level classes, but I'm not teaching next semester, so I think it'll be okay. Plus, I've had this non-fiction project in my head since my last semester at Akron, and my newest poems are leaning toward flash non-fiction, so I really have got to work with Urrea when I have the chance. The best thing, though, about next semester? I only have to be on campus 3 days a week, and I don't have to get up at 6am every day!

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And Federica will be here any minute, so that's all for now. Happy Thanksgiving!

lupanare

Lupanare is the Italian word for brothel. It was used in the poem I translated last night and is, I imagine, one of those words that makes serious translators go a little bit crazy. You see, the root of the word--lupa--means shewolf. And there's just no way to bring that into an English translation. It made me a little bit sad to let it go, but I did use "bordello" because it's more fun to say.

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I'm getting a slow start this morning because the one most time consuming thing on my to do list--the one I should have started already instead of blogging--is to read Conscripts of Modernity by David Scott. I hear it's a fascinating book. But it doesn't have anything to do with my interests. You think when you sign up for grad school that you will not have to take classes you don't want to take. Not so. Especially at UIC where two classes is a full load and there are typically only 4 grad seminars offered a semester but you have to take 3 workshops, which means you only have 5 other classes to take, and three of them are the core courses everyone takes, which means you get to choose 2 classes OR take more credits than you have to and even then there's no guarantee that you'll take a single class you like. So far, in my 3 semesters here, there's been ONE grad class on poetry and if you're a long time reader, you already know I hated it.

I cannot wait to start reading for my exams. At least then I'm the one picking the topics.

And...rant over.

Now Available!!

Yep, that's right. You can buy your very own copy of my chapbook now. Just click here: Flood Year

But...there are several folks who will be getting little presents in their mailboxes as soon as I get my next batch of copies. I thought I'd go to UA when I was in Ohio to hand-deliver some copies to friends and mentors, but my family snatched up all my author copies. I also owe some folks a trade, so you all will be getting those too.

Otherwise, I hope you'll think about buying a copy and supporting dancing girl press, which does such great work.

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I translated a poem about sailors and prostitutes tonight. From Italian. It was fun. The poem is "Citta` vecchia" (Old City) by Umberto Saba. Next up: a poem in sapphics. I guess that means three lines of 11 syllables each plus one line of five syllables, repeat as desired. I'm terrified because it isn't just about counting syllables, but also about counting stresses, and I have a tin ear. You'll never catch this girl writing sonnets or blank verse. Well, never say never.

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What a strange, strange world this is. I still can't believe I live in Chicago. I still can't believe it's almost winter.

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My sister Carla is coming to visit in a few weeks. I can't wait to do touristy things with her and introduce her to my friends.

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Workshop started in my intro to poetry class. It's going so, so much better than the first half of the semester did. Some of my students are really talented and they are all working really hard. I'm proud of them and (finally) excited to walk into the classroom every day. I feel like a big nerd, but I love it. Oh, and the number of students who have come to see me during office hours has quadrupled in the last week. That's always fun.

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I'm happy in a sad way right now. Does that make any sense to anyone?

Since I've got five minutes

Here's what's happening:

Joshua Corey is reading at the Jane Addams Hull House @ UIC tonight. Yours truly will be introducing him. Odd, introducing someone you've never met.

Gary and I are challenging each other to a Poem-a-Day in September. So far, 2 decent drafts, 1 silly/sleepy draft. (By the way--I think Gary should update his blog, don't you?) Maybe over the weekend I'll post the drafts.

Italian class is not un disastro anymore, but I'm not enjoying having class 4 days a week.

My Intro to Poetry class has its ups and downs, though I think these are directly related to the amount of sleep I got the night before. I'm still not used to teaching at 9.

And my five minutes are up. Have a nice weekend, folks.

Oh lordy - part 2, or Wait, you guys aren't freshmen

Did I tell you about the freaky teaching dream I had last week? The one where I totally lost control of the classroom and everyone walked out except for two people who stayed just to tell me I sucked? I thought I was about to have deja vu today.

Okay, it wasn't that bad. But my intro to poetry students are 1) not very enthusiastic and 2) sharp. I'm bummed about #1 and hoping I can turn it around and psyched about #2 but also intimidated. I was nervous and they looked bored. Not a good combination.

And since they're smart, they've probably found this blog and I probably shouldn't be writing about them. But what would I write about if not my fears of being an inadequate teacher?

Friday will be better. Cross my heart and hope to die.

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I'm not the new kid on campus anymore. I can't go anywhere without running in to someone from the English dept or a student. Sometimes I just want to be anonymous.

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Italian 101 update: the letter combination "ci" is pronounced with a ch sound. the letters "chi" are pronounced with a k sound. Are they just trying to confuse me? Our first listening exercise is due tomorrow and I'm guessing I failed miserably.

They say that introverts acquire language first through reading and writing, while extroverts acquire language through speaking and listening. If y'all hadn't noticed, I'm an introvert. It is driving me batshit crazy in class when the instructor doesn't give me 1/2 a second to think about what he's just said or written on the board. He says we learn from repetition, but I'm not really interested in parroting what he says when I have no idea what it means or how the grammar works. Apparently I'm going to have to teach myself Italian, just like I taught myself Math for Liberal Arts (yep, it's a real class) in college--which is to say I'll learn more from the text book than from the teacher.

Disclaimer: I'm not saying my Italian instructor is bad at his job. I think he's great, and I wouldn't be able to do what he does. But I don't learn the way he teaches. Most people do...so I just have to learn to compensate. Means I'll be spending a lot more time on my homework than I imagined.

I did learn something in class, though. If you ask me how my day was, I can say "un disastro." Yes, it's a cognate.

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This may somehow turn into the semester of Dante's Inferno. We'll be reading Pinksy's translation of it in workshop and I'm thinking about writing a paper about it for my lit class. This is a very unformed plan right now, but it could happen. Yes, I admit, I'm thinking ahead to exam lists.

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I haven't written a poem since I returned from Ohio. Good thing I have to turn in two next week.

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Is it really only Wednesday? I'm so ready for the weekend. Going to bed really early is not nearly as satisfying as sleeping in really late. The alarm is set for 5:30am. Ick.

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How'd I do on the spewing, R?

Oh lordy

Seriously? It's Tuesday. It's the second day of the first week of the semester and already I am overwhelmed, exhausted, and running behind.

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Italian 101: It's really weird taking a class that I could be teaching--you know, if it was in a different language. What I mean is this: the folks who are usually my students are now my classmates/groupmates/study partners. Weird.

Also weird: taking Italian when I have very rusty Spanish in my head. For example, how am I supposed to keep this straight? (The phrases below both mean "how do you say..."):

Spanish: como se dice (there should be accent marks in there somewhere)
Italian: come si dice

Pronunciation is the really hard part..."dice" in Spanish is dee-say (okay, my linguistics professors would be cringing at my phonetic spelling, but whatever) but in Italian, "dice" is pronounced dee-chay. How am I going to remember this? I'm so confused and it's only the first day!

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The first day of intro to poetry was uneventful. Tomorrow the students are bringing in their favorite poems. I'm very curious.

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What am I doing here? I have to do my Italian homework and answera million emails before the stolen wireless gods steal my connection.