with mixed feelings

My time on the farm is nearing its end. The travelers begin the long trek home tomorrow morning and by Friday, I'll be back at Mom and Dad's house for the weekend before my midnight megabus ride home on Sunday/Monday.

I'm anxious to get back to my apartment, to finish unpacking & get organized before the semester begins, to see my friends. I'm not anxious to return to the city, the el, the concrete and constant noise.

And while I'm anxious to get back to real life, I'm also wishing I had another week or so here (or that I could rewind a week or so) to be more productive. Television seems to be my Achilles heel when it comes to productivity, and I have lost many, many hours to CSI reruns and other brain-draining nonsense (on the upside, I finally saw Juno, which I loved). I'm fighting the urge to turn on the crack box as we speak.

I didn't do much reading--a Nora Roberts novel, the first few chapters of The House on the Hill, a Cesare Pavese novel (still working on that one), a bit of Ted Hughes' Birthday Letters, and MacNolia by A. Van Jordan (a reread, but well worth it). Also, I don't think I ever made it to 10 pages, but definitely over five, and still working on a long poem which should get me to the goal (two weeks late). I spent a good chunk of time on my Intro to Poetry syllabus, and another good chunk of time catching up with friends...so it wasn't all wasted time. But I do wish I could get back the time I spent watching Wife Swap, at least. Oh, and napping. I did a lot of napping...too bad you can't bottle that--I think I'm going to have a sleep deprived semester ahead of me.

So, was my stay in the country a success? The jury's still out. It'll depend on whether or not I arrive back in Chicago energized and driven...or if I just pout and mope because I'm back in the city. One thing I am sure of--I'd still pick this lifestyle over city living any day of the week. So cross your fingers for me that when I go on the job market in a few years, there's a small town college looking to hire a poet.

And now, back to the to do list--not the TV.

It was only a matter of time...

before I talked myself into taking a weekday off. But it was/is much needed. I'm already on my second load of laundry, I cleaned the litter box and swept the kitchen floor, and there's lots more to do: grocery shopping, bill paying, apartment cleaning, etc. And hopefully some poetry work too.

I really admire/am confounded by "working" poets--and by that, I mean poets whose day jobs have nothing to do with poetry. I find that, sadly, I don't have the will to write (or read, or put together submissions) when I get home from work at 6 after a day of staring at a computer screen unthinkingly. I can't switch gears fast enough to accomplish anything in the short time between getting home and going to bed. And, since I'm one of those unfortunate people who requires 7-8 hours of sleep to be fully functional, I can't just stay up late.

So here I am, sacrificing a day's pay in order to feel in control of my life. Perhaps not the smartest, most forward thinking choice, but the one that's best for my current state of mind.

*

While we're talking about work... cornshake has some pretty wonderful things to say about being a poet in academia. What she says makes me feel really great about my career decisions so far.

My work ethic is broken

My summer job has flexible hours. Really flexible. I decide how many hours to work, when to come in, etc. The only restriction is that I have to work sometime between 9-5 and a minimum of 4 hours at a time (max 40 per week, obviously. I usually aim for 30).

I woke up today not feeling like working. And now, since it's 10 minutes to 8, and it takes me an hour to get there, I definitely won't be starting at 9. It would be a stretch to get there by ten, actually, because I haven't showered yet either.

The truth is, I'm thinking about not going at all today.

If my mother's reading this, she's shaking her head at me and saying, "But I thought you were broke."

Money is tight, but so is time! One of the things I've come to love about the academic schedule is being able to run errands when everyone else is at work. Same with appointments--haircuts, doctors, apartment viewings, etc. And I really need to start finding an apartment.

Okay, let's face it. I'm just listing excuses why I shouldn't have to go to work today. But responsible me is saying, "Get it together." I can be there by 10:30 and work a solid 6.5 hour day.

Writer me is saying, "Write a new draft, then go to work."

Starving artist/bohemian grad student me is saying, "You'll figure out a way to live without that money. Stay home and get some real work done."

Aaaaah! Is this what it's like to have multiple personalities? Because I am definitely feeling a little insane right now.

Houseguest

This is Mia. She's living with me while her real family is in Europe. It's quite an adjustment sharing my home (and my bed--oy!) with my new feline friend. I'm still on the fence as to whether or not I'll get a cat of my own some day, but I have to say I'm pretty okay with the litter box. The biggest problem so far is that I seem to have an ant problem when her bowl is on the kitchen floor, so I'm keeping it on the kitchen table, which really wouldn't work as a long term solution. Anyway...

*

I started my summer job on Monday, which is good, bc I need cash, but bad because I got really used to bumming around all day. I'm so spoiled. It's low-key though. I set my own hours, wear jeans, don't have to talk on the phone or go to meetings, and I like the people I work with. I really shouldn't complain.

*

Everyone has been complaining about how cold it is, but I love this sort of weather. It can stay this way until November for all I care!

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...

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.

BBQ Queen

Well, it looks like I'm going on the road for the summer. If you like ribs and you live in the midwest, chances are I'll be selling them in a city near you. I'll post the schedule when I have it, but I'll definitely be in Naperville, Il., Cedar Rapids, IA., Indianapolis, and all over Ohio at some point this summer.

I'm super-psyched, especially since I've been neurotically checking my account balance and wondering how I was going to pay my rent for the summer, but I'm also a little bummed that I won't be spending my last summer as an Ohioan in Akron.

In other news, the last of the papers are graded so I have a brief hiatus until Wedneday when I collect portfolios. Tomorrow is all about poetry--revise, revise, revise. I'm super excited.

Whatever

Feeling blah today. Maybe because of the weather: rain, wind, ice. And it's just going to get worse. I'm so ready for spring--and spring break. I need some time to gather my thoughts.

All the programs I applied to claim that they will announce their decisions this week. I hope that's true. I'm very tired of waiting, although my gut tells me that my one yes is my only yes. But then, I am a true pessimist, and things often go better than I expect. I forget who said it, but this is totally me: "The nice thing about pessimism is that you're constantly being proved right or are pleasantly surprised."

*

I can't decide what I should do for work this summer. Here are the options:

1) Call the temp agency, spend my summer like this.

2) Look for a serving or bartending job (which didn't go very well last year)

3) Call the bbq company I worked for the summer after high school and see if they'll take me back.

Traveling for rib cook-offs is both the most and least appealing of the options. On the upside, it's great money, there's tons of interesting people on the rib circuit (like the guy to the left--Butch, not Bobby Flay (not to mention meeting celebrities like Little John and Al Gore)), plenty of down-time for writing and reading (esp. while driving to and from shows), and I'd get to see the midwest from the back seat of a diesel pick-up again. On the down side, I'd smell like a fire pit for 3 months, would have to stand on asphalt for 8-12 hours a day regardless of the weather (95 and humid? fun! 55 and pouring? even better!) and would be pretty much held hostage during the events because everyone has to be there from open to close even when it's not busy. Now, all of this could be pointless if they don't need any more help, but if they do...am I too old for this stuff? I was exhausted all the time when I was 18 and doing it, and now I'm older, in worse shape, and a smoker. Pathetic (not that I'm pathetic, but it's pathetic that I'm making work decisions based on the fact that I'm a lazy ass couch potato). So, what's a girl to do?

It would make for interesting blog posts, though, that's for sure.

Day One: Back to the Grind

Well, I just got home from Day 1 of my life as a part-timer. I have a really interesting, diverse bunch of students this semester, and they seem to be eager to engage in conversation and *gasp* several of them said they love to read and write. We'll see how long that lasts!

I'm so, so glad to be back into a semester...break was sucking the life out of me. Lots of work to do this week because last week I was a couch potato. But that's all right.

I think I'm going to be looking for a part time job in the next couple weeks. I checked out Sylvan Learning Center tutor positions, but it looks like they require a teaching certificate. Next up, Kaplan. I'd prefer to do something that isn't totally unrelated to my degree. Maybe Borders will be the next place I turn in an application. Or the library. My schedule is kind of perfect for a part-time job, since most days I'm finished teaching in the early afternoon. I've gotten so spoiled as a grad student, so I need to start easing myself back into full-time work. (although I don't know why teaching 3 classes is considered part-time, since that's about what most profs teach...but we don't need to get into that whole debate, do we?)

Count Down

15.5 hours of work until I'm back on summer vacation!

3 weeks til I fly to Arizona!

2 months until fall semester begins...egads!

***

This has been a good poem week. Reworked 2 that have been sitting around not working for a while. I think they're good now, but we'll see how it goes in workshop.

Thesis meeting last night was good. (Thanks Mary!) I can't believe my MFA is almost over, though. This is starting to make me feel very uneasy.

***

July 3 is my mom's 2 year lung-transplant anniversary. She calls it Independence Day. We don't need to talk about how stupid I am for smoking considering this little tid-bit of family history, but you have no idea how amazing it is to see my mom walking around, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry (doesn't sound like an exciting list, but believe me, my mother wasn't herself when she couldn't care for the family). Between say, 96 and 05, my mom got progressively worse until just before the transplant when she was in a wheel chair and using oxygen 24/7. Sometimes I'm still surprised to see her walking without her little air tank strapped to her back. Sometimes I'm just surprised to see her walking. Aaah, science.
Happy Lung Day, Ma.

I met my replacement today. She should be starting sometime next week, which means I will soon be back on summer vacation. Thank goodness.

Last night, I workshopped my first persona poem and found it infinitely frustrating. All of a sudden, I realize that the poems, as the are being generated, are too reliant on each other to stand alone. I can't explain just yet exactly how stumped I am by this predicament. Hopefully I'll figure it out soon.

This weekend is all about homework, errands, and Father's Day brunch at the Galaxy, a sorta-fancy restaurant near my home town. About as fancy as Medina county gets anyhow. And hopefully a good amount of sleeping. Come to think of it, I may be doing just that very soon. But I thought I should try to get some work done first.

Another rejection today. And I thought I had this one in the bag, especially because the envelope was thick... until I realized they returned the poems. Time to put some packets together.

one ringy-dingy, two ringy-dingys

Ah, the life of a receptionist. I'm writing this between phone calls and crossing my fingers that my precarious connection to the wireless network will continue to work until I'm finished. I couldn't get on-line all morning, but after lunch, *poof* it worked. Hopefully it continues to.

Not too much to post on, though, because I have been so tired when I get from home from work that I've just been watching tv and going to sleep. So sad. And this is what would happen to me if I got a real job...it's what happened to me when I did have a real job. I never felt like there was enough time to really get anything done in the evenings, so I just didn't do anything. Oh well. It's summer vacation, right? Plus, I have about 6 new/revised poems ready for workshop next week, so it's not like I even have any homework.

One thing I do have to get done? Cleaning my apartment before Nephew comes home from Detroit. He's an engineering major and is doing some fancy-schmancy presentation for GM and hoping to get a job. This greatly pains my father, who is a Ford retiree. (that doesn't look right...how do you spell that word?) It's funny, when the family gets together, it looks like a used Ford dealership in the driveway. Right now, there's a Focus, two Escapes, an Explorer, an F-150, a Fusion, an 88 Ranger, a Mustang, and a couple of 2nd hand Lincolns. You know, I've never really had to do much shopping for a car, because there's only 2-3 models within my price range that I'm "allowed" to buy. Now, I say allowed because of course I'm an adult and I can buy whatever car I want, but my Dad is quite opinionated and he would torment me if I bought anything else. Plus, we get a factory discount.

This is the most pointless blog ever. I'm really sorry. It's just, well, my brain has turned to mush over the last week and I've got nothing left to talk about.

Is office space the movie with the really obnoxious receptionist who says, "Just a mo-ment" whenever she transfers a call? I'm turning into her.

Has anyone seen my sanity?

Oh. My. God. My temp job sucks. And I have to be in my car for an hour and a half a day because of it. If you know me, you know I hate talking on the phone. Which means being a receptionist is a really bad fit. But, that's where they put me, and as my mother likes to say, "beggars can't be choosers," so I guess I'll shut up now.

Wait, one more thing. They didn't even give me a computer! So really, all I can do is sit at the desk and answer the phones. I have to ask someone to relieve me so I can go to the bathroom for cripes sake.

I'm not made for this stuff.

no more pavement!

Well, it seems that in the span of 4 hours I have gone from being unemployed to being booked for most, if not all, of June. I start tomorrow...which wasn't exactly in the cards, but I couldn't bring myself to say no to an assignment that will bring me steady income for 3 weeks.

By the time that's all over, I should have my loan check and I can relax, read, write, and travel for all of July and August.

I think the universe wants me working in an office. Why doesn't the universe want me to be a rich poet with a cute gardner?

Mary has good (and exciting) news. And don't forget to check out the website.

***

I think I'm going to have to break down and call the temp agency today. It seems my bank account is leaking money somewhere (or I don't know how to live on a budget). I won't know if my summer aid application is approved for two weeks, and since my rent is due in two days, I probably need to get some quick income. Hopefully, I'll be temping by Monday and can work until the loans come in (which will hopefully be mid-June). That's a lot of hopefullys. I really didn't want to get stuck in an office this summer, but since I can't seem to even get an interview at any bars or restaurants around town, this seems to be the only option.

***

Oh, and I meant to post about this a couple days ago, but did you see In Posse Review? Lots of good poems by lots of friendly bloggers in this issue.

***

I got all but one of the books I ordered from Amazon within a week. Then, this morning, I get an email that Corn Shake's At the Drive-In Volcano is "shipping sooner than expected" and will arrive between 6/11 and 6/16. How is that sooner than expected, when it's almost 3 weeks from the day I ordered it? Stupid Amazon.

***

Last week was the MFA end of the semester party at the Zephyr in Kent. My friend sent me the pictures we took (I forgot my camera) and here are some pictures.

Aaron: party organizer and DJ

A motley bunch of MFAers

Me and Stephanie

Jay: rockstar, revolutionary, poet

Jay's band: 21 Gun Solution

the pavement

I put in applications today at Outback, Rockne's, Brubakers, and Johnny Malloy's. Hopefully one of them calls me back by Monday so I don't have to go out and put in more applications. I hate that crap. Why can't I just hand them my resume? I feel like I'm sixteen again filling out all that crap about where I went to high school and why I left my last job. Ugh. So cross your fingers for me. Hopefully by this time next week I'll be making money.

I went to Borders yesterday to spend some of that money I'm not making yet, and I bought two books from the sociology section about work. I'm trying to compile a reading list for my summer workshop/Bisbee trip for my classmates, and I was originally just going to have everyone read Leilani Hall, but then everyone else started talking about their lists and they all have some poetry and some criticism or theory on their topic. Got me thinking...maybe there is a way to bring some academics into this little project after all.


The first book, The Working Poor, starts off with the line "Nobody who works hard should be poor in America." It's a pretty bold statement, and I'm anxious to see if the author can back it up. The other book is called Gig, and it is a collection of interviews from people with jobs as various as porn star, carnie, and CEO. I read one from a highway worker (obviously I'd go there first) while I was still at the store, and it's pretty interesting. The interviewee is a woman, and now I'm wondering if Donny shouldn't be Donna, but I'm not sure I want to take on gender issues at the same time that I'm trying to deal with everything else. Should make for some interesting summer reading, though. Combine that with the job I'm hoping to get, and I will be in blue collar heaven over the summer. Back to my roots.


Back in the day, when I went against my parents' wishes, dropped out of Kent State, and moved in with my boyfriend (I was 19), I had a string of crappy jobs before I finally got hired at Westfield Insurance when I was 21. Those were the hardest two years of my life, but there was so much learning. I started out working third shift at Dairy Mart, selling coffee and chewing tobacco to the locals, and fighting with the drunks when they came in at 1:06 and wanted to buy another six-pack. They thought I was just being a bitch when I told them I couldn't sell it to them, but really, the computer on the register was set up so I couldn't ring up any alcohol after 1 a.m. (state law). I only lasted there a month, and when I gave my 2 weeks notice, the manager told me I was a snob and that I didn't have to come back for my next shift. Maybe I was a snob, but I didn't want to sell half-spoiled lunch meat to welfare moms anymore.


After that, I worked at a super 8 motel. Again, I was working 3rd shift (let me tell you, it is really hard to find a job with regular hours when you've got no education). This time, the highlight of the experience was having the cops banging on the door because I had fallen asleep behind the counter and they thought no one was there. Oh, and working with this woman who was charged with man-slaughter because her baby drowned in the bathtub. It was such a sad story, and she was such a sad woman.


Finally, I found the job at Ruby Tuesday that just about saved my life. For one thing, they had day one health insurance (a practice I think all minimum wage paying employers should use), for another, there was no limit on over time, so if I wanted to work 12 hours a day, every day, I could (and I did for the first summer), and finally, because I was surrounded by people who were going to college and they motivated me to get my life back on track. Eventually serving got old too, especially when the management changed and the food started getting bad, which meant the tips started getting bad. By that time, I had been back at school for 3 or 4 semesters and decided to start looking for a day job.


Even though that was five years ago, I still feel like I fit in better with the working class crowd than I do with the academics or the professionals. I can't really explain why...maybe it's because that's how I was raised; no formal dining rooms or fancy china, just good manners. Respect your elders, say please and thank you, hold the door open for the person behind you. Work hard, and when you're finished, play hard. My dad worked at Ford until he retired in '94 and as far as I can remember, he never took any over time because he wanted to be with the family. When I worked 9 to 5, I was out the door by 5:15 when everyone else was working until 6:30 or 7. Why? Because I was paid for 40 hours, and the rest of my life was more important than sucking up to the boss.


Academia is better because you're allowed (expected) to get the work done on your own schedule, so I don't feel like I'm tied to a desk 9 hours a day even though I'm probably working more than that most days. But I still feel like I'm...visiting. That's why I think sometimes I'll keep teaching part-time and working a second job because that allows me the flexibility that I crave and also allows me to straddle those two worlds which is somehow, a little more comfortable for me.


Well, I don't know where that all came from. I was expecting this to be a short blog. Anybody else want to weigh in on the working class/academia debate? I know there've been a lot of articles on it. Maybe I should read some.

May Day, May Day

You know it is spring in Akron when all you can hear are lawn mowers and leaf blowers. It seems there is a constant buzzing in my head.

I slept until almost 11 today! Good thing I don't have much to do. All my big papers are turned in and I graded everything but my students' portfolios yesterday. I also revised all my poetry of the body poems, so now I have 9 more good ones to send out. And I think my thesis is up to 40 pages. I'm feeling better.

It also looks like I'm going to be moving sooner than I thought, since I'm not nearly as busy this week as I expected to be. It kind of sucks, though, because I made the decision to move in the middle of April, and my landlord doesn't pro-rate rent at all, so I have to pay for all of May here and at the new place. Ugh. This means no road trip.

I'm going to be looking for a job next week, too. I've decided not to do the temp thing again because working all day in an office in the summer is torture. Instead, I'm going to take a trip down memory lane and try to get a serving job (maybe bartending, who knows?). This is how I paid for the first two years of college, so it's old hat, but it's been a long time and I've gotten lazy over the last couple of years. Waiting tables is hard work. But it should help with that new series I'm working on, right? It's research!

Third time's the charm

Lots of blogging today...turns out I have a hard time focusing on one thing for 8 hours straight. Go figure.

I've also realized today that I prefer to revise poems on paper. Didn't know that before. I suppose usually my revision process entails fixing line breaks and changing a word here or there, but the poems I'm working on right now require major surgery, which is easier to do on paper for some reason. Sadly, this means that I haven't gotten too much done. (Because I don't have access to a printer here)

Also sad is the fact that I've decided about 12 of my rough poems will never be anything more than they are right now. So much for 100 poems. Between combining rough drafts that were too similar or dealing with the same subject and junking some others, I'm down to 81 lines on my spreadsheet. : (

And finally, a random question. How come I get a temp job the same week that all my friends and family are in from out of town, and how come they all want to see me on the same day?

Wait, that wasn't final. I also want to know, is "how come" an Ohio thing? or worse, a Tracey thing? I was picking on my mom the other day for asking me to "go down the basement." Not "go downstairs," or "go down to the basement." This is another linguistic picadillo that I can't identify. I'm okay with regional things (unlike Bailey, who seems to be offended by her own Ohio-ness) but I don't like it when my family butchers the English language and rubs off on me.

The benefits of staying home on a Friday night

I just got news that I will have a poem in the inaugural issue of Hobble Creek Review. I am considering this my first Christmas present. Merry Christmas to me.

I also found out today that my temp job for next week is going to provide me with much time for writing and research, as everyone who works for the company is on vacation next week. It's like getting paid to write poetry. Merry Christmas to me, again.

I hope everyone else's holiday is as fruitful as mine.

since I'm in the blogging mood

what am I going to do when I grow up? This teaching thing...I enjoy it a great deal. But in all likelyhood, if I'm going to teach soon (say, after I graduate next year), I'm going to be an adjunct, making about $1600 a month. Now, I have always said that money isn't that important to me, but financial security is. At last estimate, my student loan payments when I graduate will be around $400 a month. My car is $250. I may be bad at math, but I know that leaves me less than $1000 to pay rent, insurance, phone bills, etc., let alone eat, wash my hair, or put gas in my car. Shall I be a teacher/waitress? Go for a PhD in hopes that it helps my chances of getting a tenure track job by, what, 2%? Or get a day job and be a weekend poet. Before grad school, I was on my way up the ranks (slowly) in Organizational Development (a branch of HR) and could probably go back and make 30-35K to start. But...ugh. How important is that financial security?

I don't know why I'm worrying about this today. I have much more pressing things to deal with: a class plan for tomorrow, my winter wheat presentation, a stack of poems begging to be put in the mail. Who cares where my money comes from in 2008, right?