better late than never

Shortly after I posted my last post, my laptop charger broke. Between that, lots of stuff going on at work, and a pile of reading I wanted to catch up on, I've neglected the blog.

At this point, I think writing an exhaustive breakdown of the Chicago trip probably isn't worth it. So, the short version is this:
The Amtrak ride up to Chicago was great and really comfortable. I did a lot of reading and writing. AWP was amazing and inspirational (more on that in a second) and seeing Margaret Atwood was totally worth the trip by itself. I bought lots of records and books and my checked luggage was 49 pounds. Erin, Mike, and I ate a lot of amazing food (pastries, popcorn, hot dogs, tacos, Ethiopian, waffles, cheese, sausage, quince jelly) and I drank a magnum of pink moscato champagne over the course of three evenings, because I'm classy. I thanked God every day for Chicago's freakishly warm winter that ensured I did not have to deal with anything except the smallest of snow flurries during my visit. I do not deal well with extreme cold. It was a pretty perfect trip, getting to see two of my best friends (twice in one year!) and visiting one of my favorite cities.

Posing with a festive cow in my cat dress

Margaret Atwood!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Giant stack of lit mags I hauled home

Hot dogs! Chili cheese (T) and Chicago-style (B)

Friends :)

Onto the inspirational part of AWP. Two of the goals on my 101 in 1001 list are to submit seven poems for publication and write two non-fiction pieces. I wrote those goals and then avoided them. Mostly because I just didn't feel like a writer anymore. Writing without a goal felt pointless and the goal of publication felt...silly. Calling myself a writer just because I have a BA in creative writing felt overblown to me. Egotistical. Obviously, this is partly an issue of semantics, but there it is.

AWP inspired me to write again. Being around other writers, talking to them, reading them, talking to people who run lit mags...all of it reminded me of how happy writing creatively makes me. I miss crafting poems, connecting moments for non-fiction pieces, writing in a non-academic way. I went around talking to a number of lit mag representatives and found that a lot of them are looking to publish more non-fiction. I got copies of journals and I've been reading them. Last night, I finally had a break in my mental block and I wrote for almost two straight hours. At the end, I had two non-fiction pieces and two poems. All in need of editing, but that's more creative writing than I've done in the past four years.

I made some decisions while I was at AWP. Or, if you prefer, confirmations. I'm going to keep reading and writing non-fiction pieces. I am going to send them to various outlets and try to get published. I want to eventually get good enough and have enough of a reputation to put together a small collection, to be published by a small publishing house. I would also like to publish another (non-creative writing) book, but that's a topic I'm a little too nervous to talk about just yet. :) I want to start writing more, creatively and for hire. To that end, I've emailed my editor at GoodNola and ended my self-imposed hiatus. I've put out feelers (and gotten some responses) about doing paid freelancing.

And, I am revamping this blog. I've already purchased a domain name and I'm in the process of moving the blog to Wordpress. Not all of the entries here will be moved there--some are much too personal for the more public face I want for the new blog. I want to start updating at least twice a week and, ideally, daily. I need to be writing more in general if I want to write more creatively. Right now, my words still feel hampered. I have difficulty expressing my more abstract thoughts sometimes and I fall back on words like "kind of" and "just" that really don't express anything. Writing more helps refine that sort of thing. I also want my name out there in a more public way so I have a public face to point to if I pursue publishing.

All of this is a little scary. I've mentioned here before that I hadn't really considered a life outside of academia. That's always been my goal. That goal has to be reconsidered now, not just because of Ph.D programs, not just because of the terrible economy for academics, but because it has slowly dawned on me that teaching English may not be what I want to do with the rest of my life. It isn't what I want to do anymore. There's no set path ahead anymore. So, for now, I'm going to pursue those things that make me happy and see where that takes me.

"but you'll fight and you'll make it through/ you'll fake it if you have to"

I didn't mean to take nearly a month's hiatus from the blog, but life has been so busy lately. Plus, I'm sure no one minded :)

Things have been a little tumultuous lately. As it stands today, I've received three letters of rejection from programs: OSU, Vanderbilt, and Rutgers. OSU was a blow for me; I was really hoping to get into that program. Still waiting to hear from LSU, Stanford and Indiana. Before I sent in apps last semester, one of my professors told me that a longer wait is not a bad thing--it usually means they're still considering your application instead of outright rejecting it. I'm holding out hope that this is the case for Stanford. It probably isn't--they probably just have a billion applications to sort through--but a girl can dream, can't she?

I also, after much consideration and a long talk with my adviser, decided to nix the thesis. In the end, I think I could have done it, but I would have been insane trying to squeeze in a thesis between work, carnival season, Chicago/AWP. The sheer volume of work I'd have to do in a month, even barring those extras, would have been incredible. And I decided, and supported in this decision by Tom, that I didn't want to write something hurriedly and end up publishing something that I wasn't 100% proud of writing. I'm still a little bummed about the way things played out, but also admittedly relieved that I've been able to have a free semester. I've been reading a LOT (I'm caught up on #19 on the list!), I went to TWENTY Mardi Gras parades, I saw lots of friends, I've had time to clean my house and watch movies and be a little lazy, which has been a rare luxary over the past two years. I feel good about what I did--I finished my MLA in a year and a half. I'm graduating with a 3.95 GPA. I learned a lot and made an amazing friend. And now I just want a little time to enjoy New Orleans some more, especially if it might be my last time for a long time to live here. 

In addition to the above, and maybe because of in some sense, I've also been fighting some depressive episodes this month. When I first started this entry a few days ago, I was listening to this Rilo Kiley song on repeat in an effort to remind myself that I've gotten to a place in life where I know how to fight those situations. This has just been a tough one. I've had multiple anxiety attacks this month. I've been trying to center myself with balanced friend and alone time, cooking, cuddling with the cat, and whiskey. The last in moderation. Mostly.

But, all in all, it's been a fairly good month. Mardi Gras was a blast (excepting the actual day, which was awful for me for reasons I don't want to go into here), I ran around in a leather corset and a tutu, I saw friends, I got a Zulu coconut, my friend got engaged, Richie made me an AMAZING Valentine's Day dinner (seared scallops on garlic butter angel hair, followed by duck breast topped with a cream and Abita Amber reduction, on a bed of pureed turnips and garlic sauteed kale) and I made him one of the best cakes I've ever made--a double layered red velvet cake with a layer of cheesecake in the middle. I'm ready to round out the month with a train ride to Chicago, panels on writing, playing in one of my favorite cities and spending a week with some of my very favorite people.

and sometimes when you're on 

you're really fucking on
and your friends they sing along and they love you
but the lows are so extreme

that the good seems fucking cheap
and it teases you for weeks in its absence
but you'll fight and you'll make it through
you'll fake it if you have to
and you'll show up for work with a smile
and you'll be be better and you'll be smarter
and more grown up and a better daughter
or son and a real good friend
and you'll be awake, you'll be alert
you'll be positive though it hurts
and you'll laugh and embrace all your friends
and you'll be a real good listener
you'll be honest, you'll be brave
you'll be handsome and you'll be beautiful
you'll be happy

"the moment that I step outside/so many reasons for me to run and hide"

When I was a teenager, I used to have awful bouts of insomnia. My mom insisted it was because I didn't let my brain wind down--I needed to get off the computer, quit reading, take a hot bath, and let myself relax. What she didn't understand is that once I get anxious about something(s), it's very difficult for me to shut my mind off. The byproduct of being an active reader is an active imagination and, in turn, a mind capable of a lot of wandering. Sometimes this is nice. I don't get bored easily. But when I'm stressed out, my mind won't shut off. It just keeps wandering.

Last night, I exhausted myself to the point of passing out almost immediately. But Richie was tossing and turning from heartburn and that, combined with the heat in my bedroom, woke me up. I got him some Nexium, cranked the A/C up, turned a fan on and laid back down...and then stayed awake worrying about all kinds of stuff. I checked my email at 4am to see if my professor had written me back. I resisted the urge to do thesis research. I calculated how many days until payday and how much money I had. I worried about Marla. I checked on Richie again. I thought about my upcoming trip to Chicago. I worried about stuff at work.

A lot of this stress is thesis related. Due to a combination of things, I still haven't even submitted my thesis proposal. The deadline for the final draft is April 2. I don't even know if my adviser will accept it at this point. I haven't officially sat a panel. The more research I do, the more research needs to be done. I worry I'm complicating things, then I worry that I'm not going in-depth enough. I feel like I can finish it by March and revise by April, then I worry that I'm fooling myself.

I can graduate without it, sure. But I said in my statements of purpose to various grad schools that I was writing a thesis. And, I WANT to write a thesis. Badly. I want to do it because I want a tangible body of work I can point to, a proof of my scholarship. I want to push myself. I want to DO something, not just learn something. And the prospect of that not happening is disappointing to me on a level I can't even begin to describe. Not to mention the added feeling that I would be letting so many people down, the feeling that my degree would be, in effect, worthless without a thesis.

The best I can do is wait for my adviser to get back in town, see what he says and work my ass off until that happens. And keep my fingers crossed.

anticipated pride

Ross: what are you up to tonight?
Me: thesising
Ross: word
how's that going?
Me: ha
I have a stack of shaky research and nothing incredibly solid just yet. but getting there. slowly slowly
the proposal that is. but so much of the proposal is actually the research that must be done for the thesis itself
it has a title now, and chapter descriptions!
I have a feeling finishing this will be the proudest I've ever been of myself. which is a strange thing, anticipated pride. but a good one.

thesis emesis

Time to get started.

Update! IT HAS A (tentative) TITLE. "'Figures of Possibility:' Freaks in Female Post-Southern Renaissance Literature."

Other considered titles, both real and fake:

"'Do You Think I Will Grow Into A Freak?' Abject Identities in P-S Ren. Lit."

"Lady in My Head and a Freak in the Streets: Identity and Abjection in P-S Ren. Lit."

"Freaking Femininity: Gender, Sex, and Identity in Female P-S Ren. Lit."

"Freak Like Me: Portrayals of Identity in Fem. P-S Ren. Lit."

"A disposition fell over me"

You know when you're so sick that you reach that dazed state where you feel like you'll never not feel this awful? I felt like that this morning. I have bronchitis and, on top of that, a sinus infection (and suddenly, out of left field, a sore throat that is hopefully from sinus drip and not a manifestation of some other ugliness). I'm going on Day 5 of sickness. Every other morning, I've felt progressively worse, so when I woke up this morning and DIDN'T feel like I had 50 pounds of mud sitting in my chest, I thought I was getting better. But it crept up on me, and I ended up having a coughing spell so bad that, when I tried to get up and go get water, I nearly fell into the kitchen counter and my knees buckled from dizziness. Richie admonished me and led me back to bed, where I spent the next 3 hours. I'm at Z'otz now, drinking honey-spiked lemon ginger tea and trying to avoid others while I do thesis work (or, you know, procrastinate.)

I finished all of my Ph.D applications, so at least I don't have that to worry about anymore, unless I don't get accepted anywhere. And maybe not even then. I called my dad about some car problems (more on that in a second) and he asked me about the Ph.D stuff. My parents both REALLY want me to go to LSU because they don't want me to leave home, but I keep trying to impress upon them how much a Ph.D program matters for later job prospects. It's a little amusing, in a way, because when I've gotten down about this whole business, particularly the "getting a job afterwards" part, they've both been practically appalled that I would dare question my own ability. My parents believe in me a lot more than I believe in myself, which is sort of annoying in its way, because they're so naive about all of this. To my concerns about a job, my mom said, "You can always be a writer!" I asked, "A writer of WHAT?" "I don't know, like a journalist?" *headdesk* Nevertheless, as much as they can upset me, I also appreciate their unwavering support. Thank god for people in my life that have put up with me while I've continually stressed, complained, rent clothing, etc.

In the end, I applied to 3 English programs and 3 WGS programs. LSU, Stanford, and Vandy for English and OSU, Rutgers, and Indiana for WGS. I'd be happy to get into any of them, especially (obviously), Stanford. I thought I'd end up applying to some cop-out schools, but when it came down to it I decided that I was just going to go for it and apply to places I really want to attend. The thing is, I still have a fair amount of ambivalence when it comes to the Ph.D. I applied, in the end, because I felt like I owed it to myself to take the chance. I feel like I would regret it if I waited or didn't do it at all. If I don't get in, I will probably still find a job I'm more interested in and I'll bum around New Orleans a little longer.

This no longer fits with the rest of this post but since I mentioned it above, my car is quickly falling apart. The radiator is malfunctioning again (after months of dealing with this last year), someone busted the glass in my side view mirror, the passenger side inside door handle came off (making it the second handle-less door in the car, the first being the driver's door), the airbag sensor light keeps flashing at me and a parking light is out. I'm tempted to go drive it to the projects, leave the keys in the ignition, and claim the insurance money.

I suppose that's enough procrastinating for now. Back to the grind and here's hoping I don't blow out my bronchial tubes.

twenty-twelve

So this is the new year
And I have no resolutions
For self assigned penance
For problems with easy solutions

At the beginning of 2011, I made a list of all the things that had happened in the previous year. I don't feel such a need to reflect on 2011. It, in the end, wasn't really the happiest year of my life. It was a tough year where I lost people, both to death and irreconcilable differences. I can't even work up the vigor to be pissed off at 2011...I'm just tired and I don't want to think about it. But, with the new year, I did think back to this time last year.

New Year's Eve 2010 was documented here. A person who believes in Fate might find that kind of ushering in to be rather foreboding. I was incredibly sad that night, sadder than I cared to admit or, really, even recognize. I later tried to blame that sadness on someone else, but really, it wasn't anyone's fault. 2010 had been a weird, weird year and I think that the end of that year was too much to deal with at the time.

This NYE was vastly different. I party hopped with friends and Richie, toasted to the New Year at Snake and Jake's, kissed my boyfriend, then went neighborhood wandering. A group of us ended up back at my house, listening to records, talking, cuddling on my couch and enjoying our friendships. It was, in the end, a night of friends and gratitude and delight, a night so full that it lasted until 5:30am. We napped, then Richie and I got up and made gumbo and cookies and French press coffee and everyone gathered in my dining room and ate. I spent the rest of the evening wrapped up with Richie, watching movies.

When part of our group returned to my house at around 4am on NYE night, they asked what we'd been up to and Christie said, "Well, we walked around and then...we stopped." I said, "We stopped. That was our night." Annie stated, "2012: We Stopped." It's been our joking slogan, fitting in so many ways (the end is nigh, friends!), but I also like "2012: We're Full."

One reflection on 2011 that I think is fitting is this one:
I don't really do the whole New Year resolutions thing, because my resolution is always to try and be a better person, but I think part of that is taking care of myself and not getting so lost in other people and what I think they think of me. Not going crazy and losing my shit. Not trying to perpetuate relationships with people who could not give a fuck less.
2010 was a year of massive emotional upheaval. 2011 was about fine tuning my responses to that, about cleaning up my life a little. In that sense, I think I achieved my resolution. I've made some really wonderful connections in 2011, I've filtered out people that don't matter or who don't care, and I've tried to be kind in my interactions with both. I'd argue that sometimes kindness is sternness or knowing when to walk away. I've dealt with some incredibly difficult situations this year and every time, I was surrounded by people who genuinely cared about my well-being. I hope I've been that person to them as well.

So, in that spirit, I don't have a staunch 2012 resolution. The year promises to be a rather drastic one--I'll graduate from Tulane, I'll know whether or not I got into a Ph.D program (and if I did, I may have to move, which will come with it's own set of issues), I have two trips planned for this year (Chicago and San Francisco). I will continue to work, really work, toward being the best friend, daughter, sister, girlfriend, person I can be, for everyone else and for myself. I will try and better myself, try and push myself a little more and not get mired down in the idea that I can't do it, I will make time for fun, and try to sleep more, and love fully. It isn't a penance, it's just the right thing to do.

validation

So I was turning in my final on Monday night and had the following exchange with my professor:
Prof. K: Your paper was excellent. You did a great job.
Me: Oh! Thanks!
Prof. K: I hope you've enjoyed the class.
Me: I have! This is actually my last real final of my masters, so it was a nice way to end things. I've enjoyed both classes I've had with you. Now I just have to write my thesis.
Prof. K: A thesis? What are you doing after this?
Me: I'm applying to Ph.D programs and I felt like writing a thesis would be helpful with that.
Prof. K: Absolutely. Well, if you need a letter of recommendation, I'd be happy to write you one. You've been an outstanding student in my classes.

He's the head of the graduate section of the English Dept. at Tulane. So. Awesome.

scholar in training

letters from professors, in response to requests for letters of rec:

Dear Mandi,
Very good idea. I'm busy but I really think the world of you. I only worry about the job market in academia. But go forward anyway; you don't know where it will lead.
I can do it, but will they send me links?

Sincerely, B. Horowitz

Dear Mandi –

Yes, I will write the letters for you. I don’t need any extra information.

Peace,
~ JLH

Hi Mandi,

Good to hear from you. I was wondering how you were doing. And I'm sorry to hear you've had a difficult semester personally.

I would be happy to write you a letter of recommendation for graduate school. I can do the OSU letter right around the deadline, probably December 12 or thereabouts. So they will have it by the deadline.

In the meantime, leave me in my mailbox any information that might be useful to me in writing the letter, including your resume & also a draft of any kind of statement of purpose you will have written by December 12.

I'll also look at the paper you wrote for the independent study & give you some feedback about revisions, but again, I probably won't have time to get to that until December 12.

If you want to meet in the meantime to discuss the application process, my office hours this fall are Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays, 3-5 pm. I know you work regular hours, so if there's some time that would work particularly well for you, let me know & I can try to make that time available.

More later, but you can definitely plan on my doing these letters for you. Yours, Tom

Hi Mandi,
I'm happy to revise the letter I wrote earlier. Could you send me a
revised CV and statement of purpose for your applications? I'd like to
be able to comment on what you've been doing. What is the deadline? Let
me know where to send letters or if they can be uploaded electronically.

Dan

SO MUCH RELIEF. I am clapping in my office.

a collection of tiny stories

The Perils of Jungle Juice
On the 22nd, I went to a friend's costume party and there was a large bowl of "Witches' Brew." I had two large cups on an empty stomach, followed by a beer. Then I drove to the Quarter to go pick Richie up, but his phone was dead and after an hour of waiting for him, I angrily went home and locked the deadbolt, because I am vindictive. He came home via taxi (turns out we'd just missed one another and he'd been in a cab for awhile) while I was in the midst of removing my makeup. He started knocking on the door and as I walked into the living room to go unlock the door, I realized I was going to be sick. So I ran to the door, slamming my leg into a side table in the process (resulting in a really beautiful bruise), unlocked it and yelled "I'M SICK" in response to his "what the fuck is wrong with you?" He followed me into the bathroom and held my hair and stroked my shoulder and gave me water while I asked him to go away. Then he put me to bed and asked me if I wanted a PB&J. I said yes, then promptly fell asleep. He found me asleep, ate my sandwich and also went to bed. I woke up around 2am, feeling dismal and looking for my sandwich.

Fall Festivities
Jason, Lianna and I carved pumpkins and drank pumpkin beer in a non-ironic festive way. Jason carved a yin yang, Lianna carved a TV and I carved a martini glass and a bottle because I'm a drunk.

Voodoo Hoodoo
I went to Voodoo all three days. On Friday, Eddie and I biked there and saw Ani Difranco, Band of Horses and Soundgarden. All were great shows.
Saturday, I went alone and caught a bounce show, Social Distortion, Snoop Dogg (with Mystikal) and Blink 182. Blink's set kind of sucked, was full of inane dick jokes and I left halfway through, after my inner 14 year old was mostly satisfied (I really only wanted to hear "Dammit" and they didn't play it before I left). I admittedly teared up slightly during this set, despite it sucking, because it made me think of when Candace and I used to blast Enema of the State in her backyard and sit upside down on her swing and sing the lyrics to her next door neighbor (the crush of my teenage life). I biked back to Richie's, where I'd left the truck and as I was tying up my bike, two gay guys approached me and asked me if I'd give them a ride to Palmer Park. I was kind of hesitant at first, but I figured what the hell and let them in. They invited me to a party, but I politely declined.
On Sunday, I went with Richie and Matt. We saw Dr. John, then met up with Lianna at TV on the Radio (fantastic show). The boys left to go see The Meters, while Lianna and I caught the rest of TVotR, grabbed food and went to see The Clash. We wandered over to catch the end of The Meters set, met up with the boys to see The Ranconteurs. I got pretty high during the TVotR show and I started getting kind of paranoid during The Ranconteurs, but Richie and Lianna calmed me down (I'm not good at being high. I either get stupid silly or paranoid.) Richie and I went to Finn's afterward and got drinks that I almost fell asleep in, because I'd only had 4 hours of bad sleep.

Frenchman Follies
On Saturday night, post-festival, I got dressed up in voodoo doll drag and Matt and I headed down to the Marigny. We met up with friends at Mojito's, started drinking a lot. I had a brief blood sugar episode, which passed when I found a muffin. We went to The John and there was a boyfriend/girlfriend incident that culminated in the decision that everyone needed to eat, which is how we ended up at some hot sausage place on St. Claude at 3am, eating poboys and taking ridiculous and cute pictures. Then we walked over to Big Daddy's to play pool and finally ended the night at Mimi's until dawn. Richie and I ate more PB&J in bed (it's kind of a thing), before falling into some really bad sleep. We finally got out of bed around 1, coffee'd up and headed back to Voodoo.

T.C. Obsession
I've been reading T.C. Boyle's The Women. I really ought to know better than to pick up a Boyle book while I have other pressing matters to attend to, because he always sucks me in. I started it because I didn't want to be bored between shows at Voodoo. Richie said, "You're going to a festival with tens of thousands of people and you're going to be the one reading a book?" I replied, "I don't think you understand how antisocial I really am with strangers."
So now I'm toting the book everywhere, reading it until 2am and it reminded me of the first time I ever read Boyle. It was "Greasy Lake" in my high school English class and I was so taken with it that I went to Barnes and Noble that weekend and bought every collection of his short stories, which cost around $80. I remember being worried that I was spending that much but then I went to the car and started reading at stoplights on the way home and forgot all about it.

Trains and Planes
Mike posted on FB that he's going to AWP and staying with Erin in Chicago. I've wanted to go to AWP every year and I was toying with the idea when I saw that Margaret Atwood is the keynote this year. That settled it for me. I signed up to volunteer at the event, to get my registration covered, then I started looking into flights. They were about $350 round trip, which is way more than what I wanted to spend. Then I checked out Amtrak. I ended up booking a train passage, leaving New Orleans on Feb 28 and arriving in Chicago the next day at 9am. (I'm taking a one-way flight back to NOLA that Sunday...still cheaper than round-trip flight). I'm really really excited--I've never been on a train and we're going to go through Memphis. I was thinking about bringing some 1920's lit to read on the ride, until I remembered that I will be deep into the thesis at that point, so fun reading will probably turn out to be something like Halberstam's Female Masculinity. Ah well. Train! Atwood! Friends! Chicago!

quarter life crisis (and other dumb catch phrases that are sometimes embarrassingly accurate)

me: my doctor fussed at me today
telling me that I was staying sick like this because I was taking on too much
but I mean...:/
don't have much of a choice
Eric: and he was correct in that fussing
me: she
and I know
but I have a GRE to take, a thesis to write
Eric: whatever
everybody knows that all doctors are male
me: ahhahahaa
right
I'll call you when I get that ph.d
if I don't get into a program after this shit, I'm running away
gonna go live in a field and get high 24/7
Eric:i was about to say you gotta get accepted first
me: actually, I'm full of shit
yeah
I'd probably just stay here and try to find a job I like more
and rethink my entire life. which may not be the worst idea
Eric: im pretty sure that you're going to be accepted to a good program
me:I don't know
people keep saying that
but the thing is...look, I know I'm smart. my professors know I'm smart
I know my subject. but on paper, I don't look that great
Eric: how so?
me: 2.9 undergrad gpa. 3.0 in my last 60 hours. 3.6 in english classes. a masters in a program that a lot of people don't respect and a 3.9 in that, with my only B+ being in an english class.
a probably 1100ish on the GRE
I look solidly average on paper.
even though my professors fucking love me. to the point where I've had them ask me to take their classes
my thesis won't be defended by the time I apply, so I'll be able to say I'm writing it but I don't have it as an example
Eric: nobody expects a masters level thesis in the application for a masters or phd program
my indiana conversation told me that the ideal writing example (of course not for an english related field) was 10 pages long
and that is exactly how long my writing example is!
me: mine is 20
I know no one expects a thesis
I just want to have something that puts me head and shoulders above
Eric: yeah I know that feeling
thus my desire to improve my GRE score
me: yeah
I don't want to take that fucking test again
unless I absolutely have to
Eric: it just sucks that the GRE is the smallest part of my application and but what will take the most time and effort
me: yup
same here. I was reading something where this professor at columbia said he barely looks at GRE scores
and I was like *headdesk*
it pisses me off so fucking badly that LSU wants this stupid english GRE
because the questions are motherfucking useless
Eric:is that the only school your doing the English GRE for?
me: well. yes and no.
in my top 5 list of schools, they are the only one that requires it. so in that sense, yes
but, stanford also requires it and I might apply there just for fun. since I'm already taking it
and another professor, one from LSU, told me that it certainly wouldn't hurt me to submit those scores to other programs if I did okay
Eric: word.
me:I don't know. I'm still questioning this whole fucking decision
a big part of me feels like I'm doing this out of some sense of inertia
like, it's just the next logical going forward step
at least a small part of it is because my parents really want me to do it
a part of it is that I've put in this much time and I want that fucking degree
Eric: yeah I know what you're saying
me: yeah
but, you know, there's this other part of me that realizes how happy I am when I'm learning and pushing myself
I want to do that research and learn and write and do something useful but sometimes I have trouble reconciling the idea that my degree might be useful
to anyone except me
Eric: yeah
me: sorry. didn't mean to go all existential conflict on you
Eric: well i have the same issue
i could go through get a phd in a tiny and shrinking field
or just do the other idea and try to start a private music school in new orleans
me: right
yeah, I mean part of the reason I talk to you about this is because we're in a similar boat
Eric: yeah
i think its worth it to try
if we get into good programs then do it
if not fuck it
me: yeah
you're right
I just keep doing that whole "the money. I like this city. oh look, a boyfriend" thing
Eric: well boyfriend should be the last thing you think of
and shouldn't even be a part of the thought process
me: oh it is
believe me
it is something I isolate to the periphery
I just think, in a larger sense, am I making sacrifices that I will regret in the long run?
will I regret giving up a potentially good relationship? will I regret that 5 years of my life? etc.
Eric: yes but if you don't make the sacrifices you'll regret something that could lead to something even bigger
me: when it was Ravi and me, I was very certain about what I wanted to do. I was sad, but I didn't experience much regret and what regret there was was tempered with that certainty
that is...not present here
Eric: its definitely worth the attempt
me:yeah
that is the stronger pull. I KNOW I'd regret if I didn't apply.

Eric: unrelated funny story. i went to the story last night to buy batteries. Left with $20 of beer.

time to breathe...okay, stop.

I took the GRE yesterday and now I have my life back for a very short period before I start thesis writing.

I pretty much expected to bomb the GRE. I spent the vast majority of my study time (about 3 hours a night, plus weekends) reteaching myself high school math. Math never never makes sense to me. I think it does and then suddenly a fraction appears but this time, you're not supposed to treat it like a fraction, you divide it! No, you reduce this one BUT NOT THIS ONE and god, fuck YOU, fractions.

So I only briefly skimmed the section of my Kaplan book that pertained to the writing portion and most of my vocab review was done using a Kaplan app on my phone.

Anyhow, the experience wasn't awful. The Prometrics center is like a goddamned prison (No talking about the test. No leaving the room, even to pee. All your stuff goes in a locker. No studying. Empty your pockets. Metal detector scan. Have your glasses checked for cameras. Each cubicle on a video monitor), but they gave me headphones and since I've been studying while listening to a White Noise website, that was peaceful for me. I feel like I did really well on the writing sections. First verbal was easy. First math was awful. I ran out of time before the last 5 questions (and the three before that were desperate answers, punched in before the clock ran out). Second verbal was a bit harder but still fine. Second math was easier but I still ran out of time before the last question. I got an extra verbal section for their testing purposes. At the end, you're given a 100-point range of scores for the Math and Verbal sections (I won't get final results until November). My math range was dismal. 370-470. But my verbal was 670-770 and I am almost certain that I'm at the higher end of that because I was pretty comfortable with most of the questions. All the programs I'm applying to require more than 600 on the verbal, preferably approaching 700. I'm more worried about that cumulative.

On that note, I've been busy making a list of the schools I want to apply to. That's another thing I need to start on soon--grad school apps. At least that one is easily done at work. So far, I'm definitely applying to LSU (they have a Women and Gender concentration in the Writing and Culture track of their English Ph.D), UT-Austin (for a Women and Gender/Public Policy duel masters. Everyone needs three masters now, right?), Rutgers, U of Indiana, U of Chicago and Berkeley (I probably have zero chance of getting in here but people keep telling me to just try, so fuck it. Why not?).

Life has been a real clusterfuck lately, but not in an awful way. There have been some shitty things, but as I said in that post, some good ones as well. The car got worse (the serpentine belt broke and the water pump may have seized up but that same guy I went on some dates with is working on it for me because he really is the nicest guy), the sinus infection got worse, a yeast infection appeared, I've had a run of terrible headaches, and fuck, I haven't slept well in a month. I'm trying to use the next two weeks to my advantage, since they will be a brief break for me. I want to finish a few books to catch back up on the months I had to skip. I want to keep riding my bike every day. I went out for drinks at Pal's last night and renewed my lust for moving to Mid-City. I want to sleep 8 hours in a night (and I plan to accomplish that tonight). those are the only goals I'm setting for myself and if I end up listening to The Big Chill soundtrack on repeat for hours while I lay on the couch and talk to Marla, that won't be such a bad thing either.

dearest friend

Abigail Adams' correspondence to John Adams has made it into my "favorite bits of reading." Some excerpts:

I can not say that I think you are very generous to the Ladies, for whilst you are proclaiming peace and good will to Men, Emancipating all Nations, you insist upon retaining an absolute power over Wives. But you must remember that Arbitrary power is like most other things which are very hard, very liable to be broken--and notwithstanding all of your wise Laws and Maxims we have it in our power not only to free ourselves but to subdue our Masters, and without voilence throw both your natural and legal authority at our feet.
-1776

If you complain of neglect in Education in sons, What shall I say with regards to daughters, who every day experience the want of it? (...)If we mean to have Heroes, Statesmen and Philosophers, we should have learned women. (...) If much depends as is allowed upon the early Education of youth and the first principles which are instilld great benefit must arise from litirary accomplishments in women.
-1776

Hope is my best Friend and kindest comforter; she assures me that the pure unabated affection, which neither time or absence can ally or abate, shall e'er long be crowned with the completion of its fondest wishes, in the safe return of the beloved object; the age of romance has long ago past, but the affection of almost Infant years has matured and strengthened untill it has become a vital principle, not has the world anything to bestow which could in the smallest degree compensate for the loss.
-1782

'Tis no small Satisfaction to me that my country is like to profit so largely by my sacrifices.
-1782

why don't you sit right down and make me smile

Lately I feel like my life is this constant cycle of getting really fucking stressed out, having a few brief moments of clarity, then sinking back under. Or, for a more-than-cliched metaphor, I feel like I keep breaking the water and sinking back under.

In this past week, my radiator has gone out twice. I've been reduced to carrying gallons of water and a roll of paper towels in my car. It is chugging along with water and prayer. I'm thinking the radiator will need to be replaced next week, which means getting it to Baton Rouge.

My mom has had the first round of injections in her back for pain management of her arthritis and a slipped disc that is causing some nerve damage.

The family dog has cancer. A surgery was performed last week to remove a tumor but biopsy results have come back and shown that they didn't get all of it, so they have to go deeper. The dog is 2. My parents are devastated.

Um, I gained like 4 or 5 pounds. Not a big deal in the scheme of things but I'm already stressed so, you know.

A very dear friend is having some heart problems, right on the heels of her mother having a health scare. My childhood best friend's father (who was like a second father to me) is having to undergo a heart cath after having had quad bypass 4 years ago.

I have a sinus infection.

I have been having a pretty bad bout of stress-induced insomnia and have been averaging 4-5 hours of sleep a night.

GRE+ school shit. ugh.

But.

None of this scary shit is happening to me. To people I love, yes. But I can be there for them. Fall is coming up and with it: my birthday, Voodoo Fest, Halloween, the holidays, NYE in Oklahoma to see Flaming Lips, Alyson's wedding, the Angola rodeo, cooler (hopefully) weather. I went on a couple of dates with a real sweet dude, someone Alyson described as "one of the nicest people I've met in awhile." I have a fantastic support network. I did some freelance work and it became a bit of a big deal. I saw Ani Fucking Difranco at Target.

so, life ain't all bad. But I'd still take some calmer waters.

i know more than i knew before

Today I had a full blown anxiety attack about the GRE and doctoral programs...mostly along the lines of "I haven't studied enough I'm going to blow it and not get into grad school AND THEN MY LIFE WILL BE RUINED OH MY GOD."

But this weekend, I got to (unexpectedly) see a fair amount of friends. I cooked delicious Indian food and baked brownies. I got a TON of reading done. I got to help three friends out in major ways. I had a mini dance party in my kitchen. I got a foot rub. I took naps while it rained. Someone told me I was beautiful. Three different people made an effort to calm me down when I lost my shit. Someone told me they missed me. I helped someone make a big decision. I met a dude from L.A. I ate an amazing homemade breakfast that I didn't cook. I took a long walk after the storm.

Not getting into a Ph.D program can't even touch that.

P.S. Who can be sad with this in their life?:

faux bohemian

me: I'm in a weird spot right now
I keep trying to write about it but I don't think it's there yet
so here are my fragmented thoughts on it (some of which you've already heard)
academia is becoming less and less of an option. a ph.d is becoming less and less appealing. my life plans are up in the air, which is really weird for me because my plan has been my plan for a very long time.
so I've been thinking, kind of abstractly, "what are things I want out of my life?"
the concrete ideas I've come up with are: I want to do work that helps people. whether that manifests as non profit or continued volunteering or teaching...I want to do something that gives to the community.
I want to be as self sufficient as possible. grow my own food. can stuff. make clothes.
I want to have a kid. I don't know if I want to marry. I think I do, but maybe not. I want to write a book
so I'm trying to figure out how to do that, in the long term
christie: you'll get what you want, as long as you know those things are in the picture
there are a million ways to get there
the freedom in that, is one of the greatest feelings i've ever known
me: that's the part I'm trying to figure out
christie: just find something you want to get good at.
get good at it, don't marry it
keep learning stuff. the more self-sufficient as you are, the more you'll find time to learn to do what you love
the less money you need
it's possible
me: yeah
I just want to set down roots
and I think I want to set them down here
I really really want to be in new orleans
I am willing to work with new orleans to get what I want
christie: :)
it sounds beautiful.
me: :)
i hope so
I'm not good at perspective sometimes
I'm trying to be
christie: just keep the picture in your mind and believe in it
it becomes real
and then other people will start to see it
me: yeah. it's the logistics that worry me, you know?
christie: ah, fuck logistics. what logistics!
me: hahaha
christie: while practical, plans don't work out most of the time
that shit shouldn't worry you more than 20%, hehe
yeah, freak out when it gets critical, but there's always a way

me: I think I just need to push myself more than I do
I realized the other day that I don't really have a talent
I'm not a wonderful writer. I can't play an instrument. I can cook okay, but nothing spectacular
and a big part of that is because I convince myself that I can't learn how to do something. even though I can. and I have. and doing so brings me satisfaction.
for someone who is always claiming to hate being stagnant, that's a pretty hypocritical attitude for me to have :)
christie: it goes back to physics, no one is free from gravity, or the laws of motion.
objects at rest tend to stay at rest
it's a constant struggle
to not stay in one place, sitting in old bathwater
me: yeah
christie: cause it's so easy
me: I just fucking hate failing
and it's why I throw myself into grad school with a kind of anxious fervor
part of it "I'M GOING TO DO THIS" and the other part is "I can't take it if I don't"

christie: i think what you want looks pretty damn good
and hey, if you don't get married, we can be two straight women raising a kid and growing a garden
me: hahaah sweet
christie: IM SO DOWN

all lit up

Earlier I decided that, in spite of feeling miserable, I was going to walk to Little Tokyo to get some soup. I'm pretty sure I have strep throat. All these people around me have it (2 coworkers, a professor, my mom) and, judging from my polka-dotted uvula and low-grade fever, I probably do too. I Googled it at the MLK/S. Claiborne stoplight while nervously hoping one of the cops on either side of the intersection didn't check out my been-expired-for-a-year inspection sticker.

When I stepped outside, I thought it might be raining. I stuck my arms out, felt drizzles, then turned around to go back inside. "Getting the car keys?" my neighbor asked. I think I've conditioned them to realize headphones equal walking. "No, the umbrella." I replied. They gave me a funny look but didn't say anything.

This marks my second walk in the rain this week, the first one being Monday. I left Z'otz and made it half a block before the deluge began. I ran back and the barista, the cute one who thinks I sound like I'm from another country, invited me to wait it out and gave me some water. Things cleared up and I gave it another 15, which was a mistake, because this time I made it 2 blocks before it started pouring again. But, my walk today was nicer. Most of it was a drizzle, so I didn't even use the umbrella. And yeah, maybe it's stupid to take walks in the heat when you're ill, but it felt refreshing, healing, to walk fast and breathe in short bursts and sweat a little. It's not necessarily about "getting some fresh air," but just getting some air at all. One interesting thing about New Orleans is the litany of smells. Everyone knows the Quarter smell, that smell of old piss and trash and beer and food. Sometimes, I get a whiff of the CBD, like today, when I had to walk across the Saratoga parking garage to get checks and this sickly sweet smell of garbage and heat (yes, heat has a scent) wafted by. The smell tonight seemed familiar too, very familiar, and I kept trying to pick it out. I finally realized it smelled like old timber, making me think of my dad, the carpenter. Specifically, I thought about the time that he and his crew were gutting and redoing the old Heidelberg Hotel back in 2005 and he let me come in and take pictures of the inside (some of those can be seen here).

I've thought about my dad a lot lately, specifically relating to my desire to learn to sew again and to build stuff. He's always been a man who worked with his hands, who created and worked, many times thanklessly, always with a fierce pride and determination to never half ass it. I have a lot of conflicted feelings about my dad, but he's definitely imbued me with that same determination...a kind of drive that comes off casually but burns deeply, making me infuriatingly stubborn about doing something with my life. I've always attributed my stubbornness to my mom, but he played a big part in that side of my personality.

So, anyhow, the skies open up right when I'm about to cross Willow, so I skip the last few steps and I guess my little burst of energy convinced me that I could eat more than the soup I'd come there for, because I ended up ordering soup, seaweed salad and 2 sushi rolls. While I waited on my take out order, I texted myself to remind me to blog. I wrote, "Walk in rain, umbrella, old wood smell, why am I writing blogs instead of poems?" except "blogs" autocorrected to "blobs," which seems like just the kind of pretentious observation about life that this blog/blob is all about. ;)

A girl at Little Tokyo complimented me on my red hair scarf, which made me laugh because I'd worn it to class tonight and gotten some commentary on it there too. I almost skipped class tonight because I felt like shit, but it was our last class and I'd skipped the one on Tuesday, so I felt compelled to show up. When I walked in, 10 minutes late, Horowitz stopped talking and said, "How are you?" I said, "I'm okay?" and he said, "You look grumpy." I said, "I don't feel well." Another guy said, "You didn't ask me how I was when I walked in!" and Horowitz said, "But she looks like she's in a bad mood!" and other guy said, "Oh sure, it's all an attempt to woo her." A couple of people snickered and I blushed, because I already think that people in the class think Prof and I are fucking, because he mentioned me coming by his house to drop off a book and letting me borrow movies and stuff and he always wants me to talk in class. I assure you, dear readers, I have had no improper relations with my professor, not even a chaste hug.

So I sat down and Horowitz said, "You know, I think it the hat, the...bandanna?" I touched it and said, "My bandanna?" and he said "Yeah, you know, Rhoda always wore them, they'd put her in them when she was mad and she was kind of the contrast to Mary, because she was always happy." And then I was delighted, because, guys, I spent a lot of time watching Nick at Nite as a kid. I even had a Nick at Nite board game. I own the complete Lucille Ball collection on video. I remember specific episodes of Taxi. And Rhoda was, by far, my favorite character on The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

I got home with my large food bounty (after another long walk in the rain. I finally abandoned the umbrella and just walked in the rain because it had died down some and it was easier to get wet than try to hold a bag of food, an umbrella and a purse) and realized, halfway through eating the seaweed salad, that I wasn't hungry, but I hated to waste all that food, so I kept trying to eat the sushi. I'd chew it and quickly swallow while trying not to think about it (insert euphemism of choice here), then I tried peeling off the rice and finally I threw the rest away. What I really really wanted was a Sprite, but my walk exhausted me to the point where going anywhere was no longer an option. I posted a whiny FB status that said, "I really want someone to bring me a Sprite :(" Within a minute, my friend Blake texted and said he'd bring me one. I texted back and told him I was sick, that he didn't have to, that I was whining but I didn't want to get him sick and he wrote back, "I'm immune. What's your address?"

I felt kind of like an ass at this point because a) I felt too shitty to entertain anyone (the idea that was going to have to put on pants was enough to make me want to pass out) but I felt like it would only be polite to invite him in and b) I really wanted a fountain Sprite, but one does not make special requests of one's friends when they are going out of their way to fulfill your bitchery.

About 20 minutes later, I hear a knock and I open the door to find Blake holding not just a (delicious, wonderful, life-giving) fountain Sprite, but a Powerade, a bottle of cranberry juice and a Hubig pie. I was so touched, I almost started crying. I was also kind of astonished that someone would be that nice to me. He gave all of that stuff to me and then said, "I'm not going to stay because I have beans on the stove and I know you probably feel like shit, so gimme a hug and I'll check on you tomorrow."

It's been an enlightening day.

happy little things

Things that brought me pleasure today:
Talking to Blair twice
Praise from a very respected professor: And thank you for reading so carefully. What you wrote this week displays more sensitivity and understanding of the text than anything else I read this week.
Listening to Sigur Ros' "Glosoli" in bed right now while petting Marla
Finishing the Insanity fit test and feeling good
Buying a plane ticket and a hotel room for Mike's wedding
Having a good friend tell me about regaining his confidence and sense of self
Really great lecture on William James' The Varieties of Religious Experience (more on that book later)
Perfect water temp in the shower when I got in
This news story
Feeling loved by so many people around me

we don't care about our own faults

I have had an exceptionally good weekend.

On Friday, Christie, Ross and Peter came into town. We had poboys at Parkway, where I'd never been. Ate a delicious but regrettable roast beef poboy (I know better than to eat that much red meat. Ugh.). Being around Bayou St. John always makes me a little nostalgic, because when Ravi and I first started dating, we went to Voodoo Fest together. We stayed in a church with a friend who was working there for Americorps and we'd cross the bayou everyday when we walked to and from City Park. That weekend has always been one of my favorite memories of Ravi (we also saw Smashing Pumpkins that weekend, a teenage favorite of both of ours that added to the idyllic situation).

After Parkway, we briefly went to Cooter Brown's for some pool and ended up at Snake and Jake's. I was incredibly tired, having been up since 6 that morning and I don't remember much about being there except that I was hurting myself in an effort to stay awake and talk to people. I'd dig my fingernails into my upper arms, bite on my fingers, scratch at my wrists...thank god Snake's is as dark as it is, because I probably looked like I was having some kind of psychotic fit. We finally left and sat around listening to Two Gallants, drinking tea and talking on my porch (because of course I got a second wind).

The next morning, Christie and I hung out at Z'otz while the dudes went to watched soccer at Finn McCool's. We wandered over to Maple St. for some Thai food and a visit to the Maple St. Patisserie. I spent part of that day texting my teacher, who has no concept of appropriate behavior. He assigned a book to us without buying it himself. He asked if he could borrow my copy and then, after a failed attempt at meeting up, he asked if I could bring it to his house. Apparently he lives quite close to me. While I was negotiating this, Christie and I walked back to my place to meet up with the guys. Everyone left and I walked back over to Z'otz to do some schoolwork. On the way there, as I crossed Spruce St. (of COURSE it was Spruce St. Teacher lives on Spruce too. I might make a blog tag for Spruce St.), a peacock emerged from a yard and strutted down the sidewalk. I followed it for two blocks until it reached Hickory and took a right. Then I called the police to inform them of wild, wandering peacocks. Around 10:30, Ross called to ask me if I could go pick up his debit card that he'd left at Snake's. I did and walked home down Lowerline, singing Emily Jane White songs and dancing along the sidewalk in front of the Carrollton graveyard.

Sunday was an excellent lunch at Theo's with Alyson and Cain, followed by Pinkberry after a failed attempt to get drinks at St. Joe's (because in our boozy quest, we kind of forgot it was 3pm on a Sunday). When I got home, Shelby was rewiring the lights on our front porches and hanging some lanterns we bought at a yard sale awhile back. I helped him with that (and learned how to rewire a light and met our neighborhood drunkard), then we decided to have a dinner party. Because I live with teh gays, nothing can ever be simple. I came home from Rouses to find that they'd put the upstairs neighbor's dining room table in the driveway, covered it with tablecloth, china, candles and flowers and had a lamp overlooking the whole shebang. We had dinner of lemon chicken, filet mignon, rice and broth, salad and a dessert of chocolate dipped strawberries, while Dave Brubeck blasted from Taylor's speakers (through his open window, which his friend's cat escaped from and caused a brief interruption while we all tried to coax the cat into not jumping off the roof).

I had Memorial Day off. I started it by walking over to my professor's house to furtively drop that book on his porch. That whole situation cracks me up and made me think of B's old jokes that I was fucking the professor. People are totally going to think so if shit like this keeps happening. Amusingly, prof. seems to have no understanding that it would be considered strange in most circles to ask a student to come by your house to drop off a book you assigned because you couldn't be bothered to purchase said book. After that, I went back to the grocery and then spent most of the day in the kitchen, baking wheat bread, banana/cherry/almond/bourbon bread, cooking up some chicken sloppy joe mix, making an incredible potato salad (I subbed in spring peas for the sugar snaps and asparagus and green onions for spring onions), and soaking the remaining dried cherries in some leftover vodka I had (we'll see how that turns out). My friend Mike, who has been in the Marines for 4 years, called to ask if I wanted to go out that night. We ended up back at Cooter Brown's and I made the mistake of drinking 4 beers...3 of which were Andygator. We closed down the bar and then I came home and apparently did a bunch of stuff, including slicing that loaf of wheat bread and slicing my finger open in the process. I must have been too drunk to realize it, because I went to sleep with my bloody hand and woke up with blood all over. Also, with an intense hangover that didn't let up until well into the afternoon. At one point, I texted Blair to tell him what an exemplary employee I was, after I fell asleep at my desk. hoo boy.

Goals: Finish thesis proposal. Hang chandelier that Shelby gave me. Pay off credit cards. Don't eat out in June. Look into new bed set. Rearrange dining room to accommodate shelves that someone randomly left on Shelby's porch. Make curtains. Make A's this summer. Have more fantastic weekends.

everyone's a winner

STRAIGHT. A'S.

this is especially wonderful after the grueling 30 page paper I did for my independent study that comprises the basis of my thesis research.

CURRENTLY FEELING FANTASTIC.