So, I abandoned the novel. For a millisecond I thought I should feel bad about it, but I don’t. It isn’t like I ditched it forever. It is still incubating in my brain, and I actually think it needs to incubate for quite awhile longer. Mainly though, all of my unfinished short stories have been taunting me to finish them. Crazy bastards! So, my thesis is now going to be a collection of shorts.

I think this may work out better for me anyway. A sense of closure on what I’ve been working on for the past 4-5 years may be beneficial to my psyche as well as to my writing. And I am currently working on a new short story that involves a situation that has been incubating in my brain for longer than the novel bits (which are just about a 1/2 year old or so.)

I sat in on a friend’s thesis defense yesterday and it wasn’t as scary as I imagined it would be. I think I might be okay afterall. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

So, I’m staying at a friends in Missoula to get a solid start on my MFA thesis. So far I have a start, not so solid yet. I have high hopes for the rest of today and the few hours of tomorrow before I head back home.

I remember when I first started really writing stories back in 2002 for my undergrad program. It was exciting, and I didn’t feel constrained. There was a rush in the hours of focus and creation and moments of what felt like divine intervention. I’ve had some of that since I started the MFA program, but to a much lesser degree. I don’t know if it is the idea of this writing being the terminal act or the pressure of all of those voices in my head that have accumulated from workshops in the MFA program, but now I’m finding it hard to loosen up and write. It isn’t so much writer’s block. I have ideas and an amorphous shape and seedlings of characters; everything I usually need to get started. But the sentences are coming so slowly, labored, tinged with doubt. I hate writing this way. I prefer confidence and clarity in the moment. I can deal with some labored sentences, but I really enjoy when the words come freely as if from some other place, piped into my head and then down through my fingers.

So, am I just out of practice? Do I just not feel confidently enough about the work? It is a novel afterall, and I’ve never written one of those. Perhaps I’ll pretend it is a short story (a bunch of them actually). Maybe I’ll work 15-20 pages at a time and see if that gets me anywhere. I won’t call them chapters because that puts too much pressure on it as if there needs to be some sequence involved, some sort of logic that I’m not sure about.

I’ve read up on different methods for writing a novel: planning it out first or writing by the seat of your pants and organizing it later. I’m not sure which will work for me. Both seem too extreme. I’ll maybe do a little seat-of-pants writing and then stop and see if a plan emerges from there. Gah, can you feel the insecurity in those words? Who isn’t a little insecure when starting down to write on something new? I usually am. This time though...I feel it so much more. All right, I forgot this is just another short story. Damn, it is going to be hard to remind myself of that fact everytime I sit down to write.

The last few entries from months ago were about my uncle. He’s now at a rehabilitation center and recovering, albeit slowly. He has been surrounded by friends and family through all of it. It is truly heartening to see.

In December I started a part-time job—the kind of part-time job that does not come home with me and turn into a full-time job. For now it is great. My side projects eat up a lot of my free time so I couldn’t handle a job that cut into that time anyway. I also get to talk to and deal with people (a bit of customer service) which I didn’t realize I had missed so much. Certain retail jobs can sure kill that enjoyment, I guess. Luckily this is one that mostly doesn’t.

My daughter is growing and walking and fabulous. When we are out and about, people comment on how well-behaved she is and how adorable and sweet. I love that other people get to experience her. She is all of those things and more. A joy in my life that I’m grateful for.

A professor and poet in my MFA program lost his twenty-year-old daughter six or so years ago when she drown while studying abroad. She was also a poet, and her father compiled poems from her 20+ notebooks of poetry that she had been writing since the age of, I think, three. Those poems have been published in a collection by the university press I’m interning at, and there was a reading last week of her work. And though it was an emotional night, it was more of a celebration than anything else of her talent and spirit. I, however, being the often super-sensitive person that I am, cried a little. Couldn’t help it. A poem was read; there was a postcard, a desire to be near her father, the awareness of distance and beatiful, beautiful language. Even now thinking about it, tears are welling up in my eyes. I usually just accept that I’m an emotional goob, and don’t worry about what people think. But a few minutes later, after dabbing my eyes with a tissue, I glanced back at the father, the poet, my professor and he was looking in my direction. I turned back to the front. And for a split second felt a little foolish being caught out crying, even though there was no judgment in his eyes whatsoever. A thought flickered… I didn’t even know her, what right do I have to cry? It was just a flutter of a thought though and I decided that it was more of a gift that her poetry and insight could touch me so much.

Later I would think about my daughter and the gaping hole that would be born should I ever lose her. And even now there’s a small voice in my head saying don’t type this, don’t share this. If you do you may jinx it; it may come true. But rationally all I really think this shows is how much I love her and how much she brings into my life. And that is worth saying.

So, my uncle is slowly recovering, both physically and mentally (brainularly...new word, perhaps?). There have been so many ups and downs at the hospital, but now he is out and moved into a temporary residence until he is able to interact enough for a full-time rehab center. He is talking a little (and hoarsely), and by his responses and initiations in conversations he is still his old self, saying a cold beer would be nice and that things will be a ‘piece of cake’. It is all good now, though some family members would like his recovery to be even quicker.

My daughter turn one year old earlier this month. Sometimes I look at her and am just awed at how much she’s grown and developed, and it’s only been a year. Crazy stuff.

So, today’s entry is just reportage. I’ve an essay to write by Monday, so I’m saving all of my thinking for that. Though, I do give thanks for all the good things in my life (the things to remember when I’m feeling blue). I wish a happy Thanksgiving to you too (if you’re in the U.S., if not then just a regular happy day to you!).

My uncle experienced a motorcycle crash about 2 1/2 weeks ago. Brain surgery, an induced coma and many tubes/probes stuck in his body have been some of the more recent experiences he has undergone.

The initial intensity of feelings and the weighty unknown made the first days seem slower, the world carefully pressing the brakes so as not to stop abruptly furthering injury to my uncle. He’s a well-loved man with many friends and a fiercely supportive family. None of his family lives in his town or even in his state anymore (actually cousins do, but not his kids or siblings), but at least two and upto six family members have been at the hospital daily. Friends send their love from the western states and even Hawaii. The also send food and make donations in his name. As I type this, I cringe a little at how clinical some of it sounds. I love my uncle. I don’t know him all that well, but I like him because he is someone you can’t help but like. He’s been up to visit us in our new city the most, bar my mom. There’s a teddy bearish quality about him, though hiding, albeit not too well, a mischievous man. I can imagine the grief and annoyance he caused his two younger sisters, my mother and aunt, as a boy. And, just as revealing, I’ve seen their devotion and love for him in their vigil at his bedside.

The doctors have not wanted to give too much hope. The brain is a tricky thing. Today, however, as he has been gradually weened out of his induced coma, there was seemingly good news about his brain activity and the expectation of him waking up as soon as they can get the medications right (i.e. stop doping him up too much). I hope it happens soon. I hope we get to welcome him back to the world.

Just how much of him will wake up is something we will find out then. The doctors have warned that, even if everything goes well, we won’t really know the full results of the trauma for a year. Recovery, medication, therapy… He’ll also have love, friendship and the strength of many whose lives he has touched over the years.

And so to take a moment to be selfish, I ask myself, what can be learned from this? Have I learned something? I imagine if this had happened to me I’d have a small close contingent of family and perhaps some friends, but not the magnitude of outpouring that my uncle has had. Have I let too many friendships fall to the wayside? Perhaps that is a fault of my character. Deep down I think sharing love and kindness is important, but often I find myself too weary to share these beyond my very close circle, and even then it is not always love and kindness I’m giving to those I love. 

So, I don’t usually respond to or pass along any of the mass email that comes from my family and friends. I have a time or two in the past, but then was chagrinned to find out that a supposed threat of increasing cancer risk was simply another “scare tactic” by someone out there who was against a certain type of product. Afterwards I stopped my knee-jerk reaction to such types of emails and decided to research the “true claims” they made myself.

So, I get an email today that puzzled me. Basically it said (paraphrasing here): If the Gov’t removes any mention of God from their money, the pledge of allegince, military endeavors, etc., then god-fearing people should protest the government “using” religious holidays to give time off.

The logic here is astounding. (Yes, I am being facetious.) Firstly, there is the first amendment:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

As for the money and military and the pledge, now that is actually showing so much respect that those not of certain God-fearing religions are being infringed upon… Though the extent isn’t much with the money… I mean it is there, but who spends time reading money? I mean buy a book.

The pledge?... Tell your kid to say “Under Daddy” instead of “Under God” and hope no one in the class says “Just like your mom”... or better yet, just don’t say “under God,” right? Say “under Allah” or “under Buddha” or say nothing at all… I know some guy sued, so maybe the pledge has already been changed, but at this point they are just some words written by someone who didn’t happen to read the first amendment or failed to understand that Christianity isn’t the only religion out there.

...The military stuff, I have no clue about this. Do you get courtmarshalled and more for not following the 10 commandments as laid down in the King James Bible? Is that really true?...if so, scary.

So basically, go ahead and protest if you must. But sheesh the very first thing they thought of when writing the Bill of Rights was religion and keeping it and gov’t away from each other. Why? Because they knew that gov’t could go terribly awry once religion started getting swirled into the mix. (As some of us have caught glimpses of in the past 5 years or so… )

There may be talk of removing “religious” references or practices in anything gov’t related, but has it happened? No. Will it happen? Doubt it. Maybe eventually, and then how much of an effect will it have on me or you or that other guy over there? None. (Perhaps some effect on the military… again not my area of expertise.) So, I don’t get the indignation. What’s the big deal? It seems like some bored guy is sitting in front of the tv watching Fox News, yelling out his window if you aren’t going to recognize my God, then I’m not going to let you enjoy my religious holiday. So there!!! Rather silly isn’t it?

It was a hot and mostly fun trip of 9 days. My daughter got to see all of the relatives and family friends, thousands of strangers, dolphins, and whales. I am being literal. I wasn’t calling anyone a whale. One of the days was spent at Sea World. She was sporting a bright hat and some groovy sunglasses.

She’s got a major pout going on, partially because of the tilt of her stroller and partially because her diaper was beyond full after the long drive which we would find out the hard way.

You might notice that though the style is the same the outfit is a different color (I mentioned the overflowing diaper right?). And of course her adorable smile is quite big after a fresh diaper.

It was a very nice trip. I’m very glad we went. I could go on and on but time is precious and right now sleep is also precious.

I’ve been reading a ton of submissions since I’ve been back from the California trip. I’ve taken on a volunteer position at my friend’s (also a former colleague’s) literary magazine. I’m enjoying the experience much more than I did at the college’s lit mag because I’m reading everything and not just the slush pile and because, this may be even more important, my opinion actually is heard and considered. We are a small group of three (sometimes four when it is a tough call) instead of a large group that runs by committee. It can be hard to constantly defer to others and compromise when judging artistic talent, harder still in a large group. So, I’m really enjoying the dialogue and decisions we are making. I also didn’t realize just how known the magazine is in the region and across the US considering that she doesn’t advertise it in any of the big monthly/bi-monthly periodicals or yearly guides. Pretty cool stuff.

What happened to May?!  Both my husband and I turned another year older. My baby is now over 6 months old and I can hardly believe it. I’m nearly done as a graduate teaching assistant. Next year I get to write and study (only one or two writing theory classes) in luxury (time-wise)... well, except I’ll hopefully have a part-time job. That doesn’t sound like much luxury, trading in a part-time teaching job for a part-time unknown as of yet job, but the teaching gig was much more than part-time—a mistake I won’t make again (of course I won’t be applying for another teaching assistantship again, so that solves that).

After a first year or so of happiness in the Northwest, we are seeing the cracks in the veneer, so to speak. It isn’t as bad as it was down south with all of the rude and angry people, but there is some of that here too. Of course, I am curious if the way we (hubby and I) view these things is actually a reflection of our own angst and moods. We are a bit less happy with this place and the people as we first were, so of course they all seem less friendly than before. Perspective is perspectivey that way.

My students this quarter are absolutely fabulous compared to a time before that will hopefully soon be forgotten. Although they are probably just a rather typical class. Perspective again.

I’m holding back my excitement for my thesis which is barely begun and still mostly just floating dust particles in the ether of my mind. I feel very much as if I’ll call down the mother of all jinxes if I talk about it too much. So, I’ll simply say I’m excited, but trying not to be too excited (this is a much better state of mind than what I felt a few months ago, aka dread).

Now I get to watch June flitter away and wonder where it all went… then July…

Once a month is rather pathetic for blogging, but I may remain pathetic for awhile. We’ll see.

I currently moderate comments because it is very easy to delete the spam. I’m thinking of going comment free like some other folks (Jeffrey, for example). Maybe once summer’s here and I get time to do anything beyond school.

Spring break flew by. I can’t believe the second week of the spring quarter is already over. A friend asked me to be an editor of her literary magazine. I said yes and I’ll start to work once this quarter is over.  I have my thesis to work on. Many poems to write for workshop. And for two more months many beginning composition essays to read, give feedback on and grade.

Life is moving quickly. My baby girl is growing so fast already. She is completely enthralled by The Wiggles, especially the parts in the shows with singing and dancing. She’s a bit too young yet to “get” the skits. It is amazing to watch her completely enthralled or bopping along to their music. For good or for bad, the sound track in my head is now often a Wiggles’ song.

Overall, I feel like I hardly have time to even think lately. That probably accounts for the lack of blog entries.

Some recent pictures of the little one:

In March, 4 months from her birth.

Last week and just a day over 5 months old, she watched the ducks and geese at the park.

Asleep after the exciting trip to the park.

The winter quarter is almost done. I have final grades to do this weekend and then I will officially be on spring break. Very exciting. Several of my students will not be so excited, as they have failed the course and will need to repeat it. Luckily, it isn’t that I am an awful, hard grader, but they didn’t pass the department’s portfolio assessment.

I think there is a relationship between this and my attitude, though I think it is not what some may suspect. By my judgment, my attitude adjustment came after realizing how little some of the students cared about their education. Perhaps some people might want to think that my “caring less” directly affected those who failed. But, basically I can’t write the essays for them, I can’t think for them, and I can’t make them listen and take my insightful advice on their essays. Heck in one case I couldn’t force a student to show up for her one-on-one conference to discuss her essays. Students have a lot more control over their education than they think they do.

This quarter definitely left me burnt out on teaching. I wonder if next quarter will be any better…

I took a moment from another session of formative commentation on student essays (I read, read, read--mark, mark, mark-- comment, comment, comment-- and pray the students take at least as much time to look it all over as I have). What did I do in this stolen moment, you may ask. I added up the amount of time I’m paid to work on the class I teach and compared it to the actual amount of time I work on the class.  The calculation is not promising. Even though I have taken great effort to spend less time this quarter than in quarters past, I’m still alarmingly over the amount of time I’m compensated for.

Can I find more ways to save time next quarter, the last quarter of my teaching contract? I’ve gleaned one way from my officemate who is a full-time lecturer, namely shorter essay lengths. It seems since the time she was in my position as a TA to now the length requirements of the essays has grown (seemingly arbitrarily) and we aren’t sure why. I believe I shall think this over for next quarter.

A few inches of sticky snow fell last week, and the weather predictors say more this week. We had been hoping for a smooth transition into spring with its cool, rainy days to start and the flowering blooms to end before warming into summer. My scarves and gloves are still at the ready, for another week at least.

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