A few weeks ago, I was very disconcerted to discover that I no longer have perfect vision. While a display on eyesight at the Museum of Science is not the end all be all of ophthalmology, I muddled through the last three lines on the chart and decided it's probably time to start thinking about a trip to the real eye doctor. This has yet to occur, but I find it ironic, considering my metaphorical long-distance vision just keeps getting clearer.
This has been the best MFA residency yet. I feel like I have finally grasped the concepts of point of view, character development, and revision. I feel like I can actually make a career of this in one way or another. No, I don't know exactly what I'll be doing when I graduate one year from next weekend, but I do know that no matter what it is, I will be on the path to publication. Just a couple months ago I would have said that it would probably take me years to finally decide on a writing career, but I think I can finally see it on the horizon, even if the economy hasn't been too forgiving as of late.
Oh, and if this vision thing keeps up, I will probably be wearing sexy librarian glasses by then, too. That helps, right?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Another Kick
It's finally time to start trying to sync spending less money with eating less food and eating better food. Any additional kicks in the rear would be appreciated.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Kick in the Rear
There's nothing more motivating than being surrounded by people who are doing more for their careers than you are.
A side effect of that is that there's nothing to make you feel more lazy...
A side effect of that is that there's nothing to make you feel more lazy...
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
There is No Excuse for Not Blogging...
...however, since you're already here, I might as well give it my best shot.
In the past few weeks I have been coping with charging far too much on my first credit card (out of necessity), trying to prepare for school (which is next week), spending time with/packing with/saying goodbye to Myque, continuing to move up the chain in a job I really don't like or find satisfying, and trying to sell my car but continuously finding things wrong with it that I have to fix first (hence the credit card issue).
I have been writing, mostly in my journal, mostly at work, and mostly just to keep all the things I have to do straight in my head so I don't go insane.
As soon as my thoughts un-jumble a bit, and my heart stops pounding, and my feet stop hurting all the time, and my brain takes a rest, I will find something worthwhile to blog about. Until then, I need time to spew the stress onto actual paper with actual ink and hide it away so no one will have to endure listening to it, as I have just forced you to do.
My apologies.
In the past few weeks I have been coping with charging far too much on my first credit card (out of necessity), trying to prepare for school (which is next week), spending time with/packing with/saying goodbye to Myque, continuing to move up the chain in a job I really don't like or find satisfying, and trying to sell my car but continuously finding things wrong with it that I have to fix first (hence the credit card issue).
I have been writing, mostly in my journal, mostly at work, and mostly just to keep all the things I have to do straight in my head so I don't go insane.
As soon as my thoughts un-jumble a bit, and my heart stops pounding, and my feet stop hurting all the time, and my brain takes a rest, I will find something worthwhile to blog about. Until then, I need time to spew the stress onto actual paper with actual ink and hide it away so no one will have to endure listening to it, as I have just forced you to do.
My apologies.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Returning to Maine
June 2005 – The rain beat a staccato rhythm on the roof of my old Nissan Maxima as mom and I drove the last few miles to my first “real world” home after college. It rained as we drove her to the airport the next day. It rained as I unpacked the last of my things three days later. The rain stayed for two more weeks after that. Welcome to Maine, it said.
It wasn’t that I hated Maine, I just didn’t have a very happy life there. I was in such “real world” shock that I spent too much time missing college and not enough time making friends. So to me, the rain that stuck around for the first 2 weeks of my post-grad life in Maine really summed up my entire time there, despite the moments of fun we had at Profenno’s getting drunk and stumbling home, at Vinny T’s eating roasted garlic on bread, or at various firefighter functions. Kind of sad, really, that the gloomy parts are what I remember the most.
May 2009 – Appropriately, as Myque and I pulled off Rte 1 onto Main Street in Westbrook, it was just beginning to drizzle. The sky was gray. We’d had a great time driving down, looking at all the crazy antique stores along the road, and getting hungrier by the minute. But now that I pulled into town, into the rainclouds that I remembered so well, and I became a bit gloomy.
I didn’t know how I would react four years, three houses, two states and one marriage later. Especially since I was taking someone who had absolutely nothing to do with Maine the first time. So when I rolled through town, seemingly on auto-pilot, it surprised me that stories just started pouring out of my mouth faster than the rain. Here’s our first apartment, I wonder if the family still lives there. Here’s the CVS where we used to walk to late at night for candy. Here’s the pub. Here’s the falls. Up there is where our friends lived. Here’s my old office and here’s the new building where they moved right after we left. Patient, wonderful Myque listened with honest interest. By the time we reached the Oldport, it wasn’t a place I had once lived anymore – it was a new adventure.
After eating lobster rolls (something I’d never done when I lived there) and wandering around knick-knack shops for a few hours, we drove to the Portland Headlight on Cape Elizabeth (where I’d never gone when I lived there). It was beautiful walking on the sea cliffs, climbing down to the rocky shores, and taking pictures. I wondered why I had not been here before, but then I wondered if I would have appreciated it this way.
Driving back we sang at the top of our lungs and I decided that I was okay with going back to Portland again with someone else who would see it all as new. At the same time, I was content if I never did have the opportunity to go back. I think I made my peace with Maine. And, as the sunshine decided to come out (and stayed out for the rest of the day) while MyQue and I feasted on beer, fried clams and lobster, I think it made its peace with me, too.
It wasn’t that I hated Maine, I just didn’t have a very happy life there. I was in such “real world” shock that I spent too much time missing college and not enough time making friends. So to me, the rain that stuck around for the first 2 weeks of my post-grad life in Maine really summed up my entire time there, despite the moments of fun we had at Profenno’s getting drunk and stumbling home, at Vinny T’s eating roasted garlic on bread, or at various firefighter functions. Kind of sad, really, that the gloomy parts are what I remember the most.
May 2009 – Appropriately, as Myque and I pulled off Rte 1 onto Main Street in Westbrook, it was just beginning to drizzle. The sky was gray. We’d had a great time driving down, looking at all the crazy antique stores along the road, and getting hungrier by the minute. But now that I pulled into town, into the rainclouds that I remembered so well, and I became a bit gloomy.
I didn’t know how I would react four years, three houses, two states and one marriage later. Especially since I was taking someone who had absolutely nothing to do with Maine the first time. So when I rolled through town, seemingly on auto-pilot, it surprised me that stories just started pouring out of my mouth faster than the rain. Here’s our first apartment, I wonder if the family still lives there. Here’s the CVS where we used to walk to late at night for candy. Here’s the pub. Here’s the falls. Up there is where our friends lived. Here’s my old office and here’s the new building where they moved right after we left. Patient, wonderful Myque listened with honest interest. By the time we reached the Oldport, it wasn’t a place I had once lived anymore – it was a new adventure.
After eating lobster rolls (something I’d never done when I lived there) and wandering around knick-knack shops for a few hours, we drove to the Portland Headlight on Cape Elizabeth (where I’d never gone when I lived there). It was beautiful walking on the sea cliffs, climbing down to the rocky shores, and taking pictures. I wondered why I had not been here before, but then I wondered if I would have appreciated it this way.
Driving back we sang at the top of our lungs and I decided that I was okay with going back to Portland again with someone else who would see it all as new. At the same time, I was content if I never did have the opportunity to go back. I think I made my peace with Maine. And, as the sunshine decided to come out (and stayed out for the rest of the day) while MyQue and I feasted on beer, fried clams and lobster, I think it made its peace with me, too.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Another Conundrum
Okay so I didn't spend all day today thinking of gender-specific bathroom rants, but this is another big one -
Why in the world are women so pissed off when men leave the toilet seat up? What, are we so weak as a sex that we can't bother to put it back down? And why can't guys complain for us leaving it down all the time? Life is far too short to complain about something that takes less than a second to do. Just be glad they're putting the seat up at all.
Phew, thanks, I think I'm done for the day.
Why in the world are women so pissed off when men leave the toilet seat up? What, are we so weak as a sex that we can't bother to put it back down? And why can't guys complain for us leaving it down all the time? Life is far too short to complain about something that takes less than a second to do. Just be glad they're putting the seat up at all.
Phew, thanks, I think I'm done for the day.
Conundrum from a Chick
Why do men read in the bathroom? Are their bodies so vastly different from ours that they take that much longer to do their business? I've been known to pick up a tube of toothpaste and try to sound out monosodium-whatsis in my day, but I've never stood in front of my bookshelf and thought, "What should I take in today?"
Can anyone else please try and explain this phenomenon to someone who takes literally less than 2 minutes in the bathroom no matter what I'm doing?
Can anyone else please try and explain this phenomenon to someone who takes literally less than 2 minutes in the bathroom no matter what I'm doing?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)