Summer in the City

It's supposed to be 93 today, but it'll "feel like" 98. Joy.

P.S. By the time I was six, I knew all the words to this song. It was on a McDonalds Golden Oldies tape of "Summertime Hits." Oh, how I loved that tape and wished I had been born in the 50's instead of the 80's. I would have looked good in a poodle skirt. Oh, and I was invited to a theme party this weekend where I would have gotten to wear a poodle skirt, but alas, I'll be in Ohio.

and because my sister repressed all her childhood memories

because sometimes, you just want to feel like a kid again

Saturday morning

It's days like this that I miss my old apartment in Cuyahoga Falls the most. Spending one of the first warm Saturday mornings of the year on the porch with a cup of coffee and a book (I'll leave the cigarettes in the past, thank-you-very-much) would be truly ideal. Having Michael, my nephew, come out to distract me every now and then, but then going to work on his senior design project in the garage with ESPN on in the background would be really nice too. Alas, I'm here in Chicago where my porch is not big enough for a table, and besides, there's this crew working on the building (and has been every nice day since I moved in) that make all kinds of noise and debris, thus making it impossible to spend any time on my tiny balcony.

This is why I have plans to go to my friend Shelly's house a little later on--Shelly has a deck. Also, Shelly thinks that if we work on our papers in the same place at the same time, I'll be able to help her focus. But Shelly lives in Bronzville, which will take me an hour on the el to get to, and it is supposed to rain. I might just bail on Shelly. If I had a car, I'd so be there. But the commute...

Maybe to Bar on Buena. They probably will open the windows (which are the size of garage doors) today. That would be almost like sitting outside.

Or maybe I'll just stay here, where all my books and papers are, where I have a freezer full of food I've already paid for, where I have instant coffee and my favorite mug. The sliding glass door is already open, the birds are chirping, I'm drinking coffee...I guess there's nothing wrong with where I am.

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Today I'll be focusing on my paper for Proseminar--the Political Economy course. The one that really pissed me off at the beginning of the semester. I mean, I'm getting a PhD in English, writing a creative dissertation, and I'm forced to study the Political Economy? What the...? But then I started getting into some of it. Rather, I started getting riled up about the way theorists are describing working class people, and I found my way into the class. So now, I'm trying--emphasis on trying--to write a paper that deals with working class identification / values / discourse as they relate to (or contradict) working class theory. I don't really know if I have the theory chops for this project, but I'm going to give it a shot. And the strange thing is, I'm way, WAY more excited about writing this paper than I am about writing the paper for my contemporary poetry course. So hopefully today is a good, productive, intellectually satisfying day. Maybe I'll learn something.

Some 80's Halloween Nostalgia

This thing used to scare the bejeezus out of me.

Some Graduates, Some Gab

Here they are folks, just a few of the newest MFAs from the NEOMFA (and a couple of their friends). They all did an excellent job reading on Friday and Saturday, but I forgot my camera those days, so you'll have to live with pics from our final Wednesday night trip to Pints after class.










Oh, and congrats to Frank, who just got a poem picked up by Hobble Creek Review! Way to go, Frank.


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I'm obviously quite nostalgic these days, and the fact that I'm moving soon isn't helping any. I hear John Gallaher is waiting for me to leave Akron before he comes to visit. What's up with that, John? Rumor has it I'm going to miss Jason Bredle too. Don't you think, when you move away from home, that cool stuff should stop happening there? It's just not fair. At least this year I'll be on my new home turf for AWP. Maybe I'll hold a raffle for who gets to sleep on my couch.

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I've got a bazillion portfolios to grade today, but after that, I'm forcing myself (joyfully) to focus on poetry for a little while. Until the BBQ season starts, anyhow. I have a pile of books to read, a pile of drafts to revise, and a manuscript to get in the mail. This is going to be one crazy-busy summer, between traveling for work, packing, moving, reading Kant for my first PhD class, and trying to keep up with all my Ohio people before I go...Yikes! But I like a full plate.


Hopefully more thoughtful blogging soon...but lately, I haven't had the capacity for more than rambling.

My Alter-Ego

They were easier to find than I expected.

Sunday Stuff

Marissa, I'm not ignoring you. It's just that I've done the random facts meme twice now, and I don't really have that many random facts--unless you want me to start giving too much info. (See my answers here--I can only find one of them, but I know I've done it twice.)
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Tobin, the funniest guy in the NEOMFA (and perhaps the most photogenic), has a blog. Read it. You'll laugh.
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The temp here might get above freezing today. I'm looking forward to that.
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Today is my BFF's 1st wedding anniversary. Congrats Lindsay and Chad! This isn't a very good picture--but that's b/c I'm not a very good photographer. I'm still waiting for my copies from the wedding album.


And down here, a blast from the past. That's me and Lindsay in 7th grade, getting made up for glamour shots (aka - how to make 13-year-olds look like hookers). Seriously. We went to her grandparents' house after and her grandfather made us wash our faces as soon as we walked in. I don't know where the actual photos are, but as soon as I find them, I'll post them.

I'd Rather Be...

here:

It is so cold in Ohio today that I don't even want to go see if there is any poetry news in the mailbox.

At the same time that I'm struggling with transition, I'm aching for change. For something new & different. To stir the pot.

I've never been to NYC before, so maybe that will be enough to get things moving, but being that I am a country bumpkin, I'm not sure the big city will inspire me like the Chiricahuas did. I suppose it's a wholly different thing. The similarities: both big, immense, and overwhelming. Good for perspective.

The sky today is like old blankets. Dull and fuzzy. But not warm.

Whitey's Booze'n'Burgers

Went to Whitey's last night for a friend's 30th birthday, but spent most of the evening catching up with those three (above), some of my closest friends from high school. High School was a rough time for my friends and I--a bunch of misfits who spent too much time thinking and listening to sad music. Not much has changed. On the way home, we were singing along to the oldies station, which is something we used to do back when Mike was the only one of us with a car. The biggest difference? Back in the day, we were all on the straight and narrow--no smoking, no drinking, just good Christian kids eating french fries at Eat'n'Park after youth group meetings on Wednesday nights. Hard to believe, I know.

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So school starts tomorrow, and I'm still not ready. Well, I'm ready enough. Got my Tylenol PM so I don't stay up until 2 in the morning like I have been over break. I'll be up before sunrise tomorrow morning and that is not a pleasant thought.

My first class starts at 9:55...which makes it seem like I won't need to be up all that early, but I am a victim of the Tracey curse: Just because I'm out of bed and walking around doesn't mean I'm awake. I need at least 2 hours to get the cobwebs out. It's a good thing I will never have an on-call sort of job, because I'd probably sleep through my pager.

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Did you see the Barn Owl Review proof over at Mary's place? Are you as psyched as I am to have a copy all to yourself? Just a couple more weeks.

MFA Retrospective

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On advice from 18-year-old boys

When I was sixteen, I met a boy whose name was Nick. He was about to graduate from high school and go to USMC boot camp. For the next two years, we wrote letters to each other religiously. This wasn't "before" email exactly, but early enough that we never considered it an alternative. Anyhow, the point is, I still have the letters.

At sixteen, I was a very sad girl. My sister Carla had recently left for college, leaving me at home with mom and dad, except that mom got a job to help pay Carla's tuition, which left me at home with dad. And Dad and I were at each other's throats that year. I was also having trouble with my friends at school and in general feeling isolated and unwelcome everywhere I went. Except when I was writing or reading a letter to/from Nick. I told him how I was feeling, and being the older, wiser, 18-year-old Marine, he wrote back to give me advice. One letter went like this (and to the left, Nick and I, circa 1997):

You keep telling me how you don't know where you fit in. Don't fit it! When you make an effort to fit in, you change at least a small part of yourself to accomodate the group. Don't sell yourself out--even a little--to fit in. Have more integrity. It'll be a little lonely for a while but you'll find that there are others who don't want to fit in as well. Those are the people you want as friends.

Reading this today, it sounds a little cliched, a little trite, a little too easy. But when I read it for the first time during the spring of my sophomore year of high school, I thought it was brilliant.

I've been thinking about this letter a lot lately. About how I'm still just like I was then, wanting everyone to like me and wondering if there's something wrong with me if someone doesn't. Wanting to fit in. Grad school was the first time when I felt like I knew what Nick was talking about in that letter. My friends are odd-balls. In the real world, some of us don't look quite right: long hair, mowhawks, tattoos. Some of us don't dress quite right. Some of us get thrown out of bars. Some of us never get called for a second date. Some of our families think we're weird because we like to sit in the dark and think. But together, we fit. We make each other better.

So I guess it doesn't matter if some people still don't like me.

anxiety? what's that?

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Holy crap! I am a glutton for punishment.

Nephew/Roommate was making fun of me yesterday because I was telling him how busy I would be and I said, "And I have to go to the bar after class." He said if I "had" to go to the bar, then maybe I shouldn't. He just doesn't get it. I have to schedule every minute of my life for the next 3 months, but that doesn't mean I can't schedule a little fun, too.

I'm behind on my BFS. I picked the journals, picked the poems, but haven't had time to sit down and write my cover letters or print things out or go to the post office for stamps. Although, I no longer know what my packets are going to cost. See, up until this summer, all my poems were one page. So I knew that I would have 6 sheets of paper in an envelope, and that costs 63 cents. Well, now most of my poems are 2 pages (or longer) so I am going to have to get everything weighed again. Hrumph. And when am I going to do that? It doesn't help that my new favorite form of procrastination is finding books on GoodReads.

Last night, before bed, I was watching the national drum corps competiton. (Really, I wouldn't have sought this out, but N/R told me it was on ESPN and thought I might be interested.) I didn't especially enjoy it, but did make me feel a bit of nostalgia. Fall has always been my favorite season, and I think that's partly because I loved being in marching band so much. In the spirit of band season, here are some pics from my days as a band rat. The first is me & my trumpet, circa 9th or 10th grade. The second one is me, senior year, getting ready to go on the field. (PJs and sweats are much more comfortable under polyester uniform pants than jeans are, and we had to tuck our pants into our socks so they didn't hang down around our ankles. I didn't just dress like that for fun.)

Retrospective

I've been in a weird place the last few days. Working the normal 8-5 shift is not sitting well with me and my internal clock. I know for sure now that I can never go back to the corporate world full time. I didn't know how bad it was for me back then because it was all I knew, but now, having been on a much more flexible schedule for the last year and a half, I know that I am not fully functional during the day. Going to bed at 10:00 wastes my most productive and creative part of the day (late nights). Also, leaving my house before the sun is up and getting home after sunset is really not good for my mood. I've been sad and weepy all week. Thank goodness today is the last day.

I'm anxious for New Years Eve (even though big party holidays are always a let down) because I haven't seen some of my friends since school ended. I'm also cautiously excited about 2007 and a little sad/nostalgic for 2006 already. It was a great year. I taught my first class, finally got to visit the west coast (although I didn't get to see the ocean), made some great new friends and reconnected with some old ones, got my first acceptance letter (although I have to wait til February to say I've been published), had an awesome, debaucherous weekend at Put-In-Bay, and spent the whole summer relaxing and writing instead of getting some crappy part-time job. Even though most of these adventures were expensive and have left me quite broke, the end result is that I am a happier, more well adjusted person now...and things are still looking up.

In 2007, I am going to send out crap-loads (that's the technical term) of poems, finish my thesis and get my degree, and make a decision about PhDs. Somewhere in there, I hope to have time (and money) to spend with my family and friends...maybe a road trip over the summer since I'm sure I can't afford to go to Europe like I'd hoped. I'm excited to see how things turn out.

Well, there's a Nora Roberts novel calling me. Yes, I read romance novels between semesters. Leave me alone.