Kiss more (and longer), Drink a Latte

...and moreIdeas from a Newsweek article for New Year's Resolutions.

Immersion Journalism

Here's an Essay by a U.S. Teen who went to Iraq over Christmas Break, and the story about his "secret" trip and dangerous adventure.

What if more students were this passionate at some point in their lives about something they learned in English class?

our first christmas tree

Emerson got to come along, on the condition that he wore his Santa hat.

Emerson loves the snow

I like our neighborhood, and that it feels like a house in the woods--with Manito Pond just a few blocks away. And the small, old house is now warmed by an oil-sucking Hercules furnace. I wish there was a more economical and environmentally sound way of heating, but the gas fireplace and space heaters are not much better. The temperature gauge outside the kitchen window currently reads 20 degrees.

"In the woods we return to reason and faith." - Thoreau

teacher & education blogs

what i read occasionally and new, recently found blogs:

• for a refreshingly and brutally honest account of teaching in the inner city - Mr. Babylon (has a special link to a NY Sun Times article about teachers who blog)
• Education writer Joanne Jacobs
• Why Homeschool
• Get Lost, Mr. Chips - a substitute teacher's blog

* * *

Imagine

Schools where I might enjoy being part of the English/Creative Writing faculty:

* Interlochen Center for the Arts - Michigan: Philosophy..."Interlochen Arts Academy's creative writing program offers students with little or no prior training in literary craft an opportunity to engage in intensive study of both the theory and practice of poetry, fiction, creative non-fiction, playwriting and screenwriting. The goal of the program is to help young writers cultivate their talents, to broaden their command of technique, and to introduce them to both traditional and contemporary masters in various genres. Central to the curriculum are the Workshops and the individual critiques - the former enabling students to meet in small groups to discuss one another's work, the latter bringing individual students into an intensely focused critical discussion with the published, professional writers who serve on the faculty. In addition to both workshop and literature classes, the program brings to campus distinguished writers who work with the students to enhance their studies and to provide them direct contact with the world of contemporary writing."

* The Beacon School - NYC: "The Beacon English Department explores literature through analysis and creative writing. Our purpose is to help our students realize that literature reflects certain universal truths that allow us to see others and ourselves as part of a larger whole. While literature can be understood as a product of the time in which it was written, it is a timeless reflection of life that facilitates discovery and fosters empathy. Because of this, we believe that literature is democratic and humanizing.Students are required to pass eight semesters of English. In each academic year students will be asked to present one project to demonstrate a particular form of composition emphasized during that year. In addition each year at the PBA presentation thestudent will present a creative project that explores literature through the creative process. This can include creative writing and/or non-written projects (such as video, visual art, dance etc.). Whenever possible, a teacher other than the classroom teacher will assess or help assess the portfolio piece. // Creative writing will be emphasized each of the four years." ... The school also has unique sports team--including Ultimate Frisbee, Bowling, and Fencing. Plus fun clubs that reflect the intellectual diversity of the school community: Live Poets Society, End of the Tunnel Press, and The Catalyst (an undgerground poetry magazine) are just a few.

* The School of the Art Institute of Chicago

* a Charter School? . . . unfortunately, Washington State hasn't been successful in establishing these yet. (Another site about the charter school movement in WA, http://www.wacharterschools.org/.)

Who's your Kindred Poet?

Poetic Intellectual

You're a poetic intellectual.


What Sort of Intellectual Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

The Bark

A great article, if you run with a dog...or just like running or dogs...from The Bark.

An excerpt...
"I’m not a religious person, but trail running with my dogs has helped make me a spiritual one, developing in me a deep, sustaining connection to them and to nature in all her abundant wonder. My senses have become more acute. I’m more aware—of the dogs, the trails, the mountains, the smells, the rhythms of life and the seasons. Running trails brings me a sense of calmness and peace. There’s awe of the natural beauty and the ease with which my dogs and I glide through it, spiced with a keen awareness that something could instantly go wrong and so nothing should be wasted or taken for granted. A metaphor for life. I recently read that some scientists theorize that humans are “hardwired” to accept, and need, God and religion. I suspect my own hardwiring requires that I worship at the church of nature and dogs, where services occur while running with them on wooded trails. "

Rehab, Holden, and The Scarlet Letter

What do these 3 things have in common?

Well, for the past three weeks I've had the interesting opportunity to be a "guest teacher" (the new term for "substitute") for an English teacher at a local high school, due to her being in rehab. For alcohol. Further proof that it's a stressful profession.

Week 1 was a scramble, as there were no lesson plans, no attendance sheets, no gradebook or planning book...nothing to give me a clue as to what the teacher's goals and expectations were for the class. (Previous to me arriving, there were 8 different substitutes in and out.) Even the AP class didn't receive a syllabus! I got a little help from some of the other teachers, and the dept. head (who was there on my 1st/2nd day) then has been gone since due to her own health situation--totally not related to rehab or anything.

While the AP kids have been working on and now finally giving group presentations on The Scarlet Letter, I've managed to scrounge up materials either found in messy file drawers or random drawers (the poor teacher was totally unorganized, reflective of her downward alcoholic slide) to at least help with curriculum for The Catcher in the Rye. It's one of my favorite novels to teach; however, my files (and marked up copy of the book) is in storage at my parents 300+ miles away. So I've resorted to using basic comprehension questions the teacher had in a file (which I only finally found on day 4).

The district, unfortunately, uses ability grouping for their English classes. And according to Myles I. Friedman's book No School Left Behind: How to Increase Student Achievement, this is one of the things that schools are NOT supposed to do. So 5 and 6th periods is "Integrated Communications"--seniors who have either failed the regular ("College Prep") course the previous year(s), or who chose the course (or it was chosen for them by a counselor) either because:
a) didn't want a challenging English class/don't care about going to college
b) is ESL
c) can't read/write
d) a and c

Despite the handful of respectful, cooperative, genuine nice kids, there is an obnoxious group of 3 or so boys (it's always the boys..17/18 yr old high school boys are an odd breed...one is even 18-1/2, will be 19 in May and he says he's coming back next year b/c he can't pass any classes) in each class. They put cell phones in their crotch (to hide them from me), throw empty plastic water bottles across the room to the garbage (and miss), ask to go to the bathroom every day, don't bring their book, refuse to use one available for loan, and are kids that don't have jobs outside of school because they are not skilled enough, nor professional enough to even follow instructions and complete tasks, provide cordial customer service, and respect a boss. I'm not being cynical. I'm admitting the reality. I'm done being an idealist teacher. That would be so "first year teacher"! I taught them a new word today: asinine.

As in, "It is asinine to throw a pencil across the room at your friend."

It's a weird world there. And of course, being a "sub" (despite the work we actually have been doing and the quizzes/work being graded) doesn't allow me the time to build relationships with the students, or establish my own clear boundaries and expectations for behavior (my attempts on day 2 were somewhat helpful, but there was no real way to reverse their habits after a random string of subs and the disorganization and lax accountability they were previously held to).

Other crazy things: someone writing the word "penis" on a window with lip gloss, a snowball thrown across the room (by the almost-19-yr-old, who also wears red eyeliner and a fur-lined green plaid coat), and a kid freaking out because he didn't want to sit in his assigned seat. Like, freaking out and yelling obscenities.

So other than having a room of semi-Holdens (except they aren't passing English), there are a couple classes of College Prep juniors and we've been going through Transcendentalist writers who are in their glossy 4" thick American Lit. textbook. Emerson's "Self-Reliance" and "Nature", tomorrow some "Walden" excerpts. Unfortunatly, their writing skills are pretty weak, so it makes literary analysis questions/responses difficult, because they need so much guidance, coaching, immediate feedback, correcting, and with 30 students with the top 10% who are great writers, then the next 10% who get bored easily waiting for others...well, they have a ways to go to be prepped for college, so good thing they are only 11th graders.

Positive highlights/observations will appear in the next post, for now I can say that this re-introduction back into teaching HS English at a 1,600+ student school, on a 6 period/day schedule has helped me make the decision to not seek a FT position teaching at the secondary level...even if the rehab goes longer.

Friedman excerpts:
“Well educated students are those who know how to think critically, how to solve problems, how to work well collaboratively, and how to innovate. But children must want to learn what they are being taught; they must be active partners with their teachers. Students control what they are willing to learn.”

“In the middle school years, however, schools begin teaching more abstract concepts. Students are less able to see how these concepts help them . . . Learning becomes less interesting, and students become less motivated. From this point on, a student’s success depends largely on the values of the family. If the family places a high value on education, students will force themselves to push through the boredom and irrelevance of their lessons.”

Hermione's Yule Ball

The fog has been thick and lingering long in Spokane lately, making for ideal conditions in which to venture out to see the newest Harry Potter movie. My husband and I went to the 6:40 pm showing last Saturday night at the Imax Theatre. We got our tickets an hour early, and pe0ple were already lined up to be the first ones in the theatre. We left and got some calzones at a small local pizza place, and got back in just enough time to get the last two seats in the last row. Seeing it on the Imax was definitely the way to go, and although my husband has read none of the HP books and only see some of the first movie (he fell asleep!), he still enjoyed it. My favorite scene was the Yule Ball, and it was nice to not see fat Dudley or Harry's muggle aunt and uncle.

It is definitely not a kid movie. "Sequences of Fantasy Violence and Frightening Images" make it PG-13. Of course, that didn't stop some Spokane parents from taking their small children. The four-year-old sitting in front of us was riveted and scared at various points during the movie. Poor little boy is still probably having nightmares. I understand that some parents feel like they are doing the right thing, but really...that little child probably would not have cared if his brother saw the movie and he didn't. I was especially surprised that when we exited the movie at 9:20 pm, there are so many children in line with their parents waiting for the 10:00 showing. Dressed in pajamas, I wonder how many actually stayed awake for the entire 2-1/2 hour lenght of the film. Again, these parents were probably acting more out of their own selfish interests than their children. May I remember this when I'm a parent someday.

Super-Normal

"Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted."
- from the Bhagavad Gita
. . . inscription on Sylvia Plath's tombstone in Heptonstall, Yorkshire in England

"...when Sylvia was seventeen and a senior in high school, she had mastered the art of achievement so well that she herself was deceived into believing she was super-normal."
- Anne Stevenson, from Bitter Fame: A Life of Sylvia Plath - (c) 1989

Do any kids today believe they are "super-normal"?

If only there were more high school students like this today in the public schools--those that are creative and unique, who possess a genuine interest and respect for learning.

I spent Tuesday teaching 9th and 10th grade Science as a substitute teacher. During my free period, I went to the library to ask the librarian if there was anything I could help with. (Though I would have rather found a quite place to read, my classroom was used by another teacher during that time and I wanted to show I was a "helpful sub".) As I put away stray books and tidied up the shelves, I was saddened to see what poor condition the books were in. Most seemed fairly well-used, with cracked corners on the spine. Yellowed pages and out-of-date covers. I suppose the condition is indicative of the general lack of consideration that students take when checking out books, but the books in these non-fiction shelves were generally not the latest, most interesting books. I remember how I've seen HS kids treat their library books, and it was mostly while they were in the library because the non-Honors kids didn't want to check out books. Mostly because they figured they would lose them and didn't want to have to pay the fine (which eventually caught up with the kids because they wouldn't be able to receive their transcripts if transferring schools or their diplomas upon graduating).

Jane Austen

"Sometimes the last person on earth you want to be with is the one person you can't be without." (movie tagline)

I'm excited to see the new Pride & Prejudice movie. I first read this novel in the summer of 1999, bought on a whim from a bookstore in the Frankfurt, Germany train station. I had finished the two books I had brought from home, and knew that in less than a week I'd be in London for the last leg of my European backpacking trip.

Austen did not disappoint, especially while reading her in the English garden of a B&B in the Cotswold, and eventually touring Bath and visiting the Jane Austen Centre there.

That next academic year, I taught the novel to my 10th grade Honors English classes. Overall, they loved it. The boys were a little less enthusiastic, at first...but once you start discussing gender issues, class, family dynamics--just about every adolescent becomes interested in the discussion. I livened it up and showed the novel's relevance to today with clips from "You've Got Mail". We also watched a bit of both movie versions that were available at that time--the BBC Colin Firth version, and the black/white Olivier one. Because these kids LOVED drama, we also had our own in-class version of "The Gerald Springfielder" show, where select students dressed up and got into the mindset of their designated character to "face off" on the set of our imaginary talk show. Of course, they also had essay responses, reading journals, etc...all that rigorous academic stuff because it is Honors, afterall. However, those more creative, non-traditional lessons are so fun to do with a group of responsible students who don't push the boundaries too much. They knew how to have fun, without taking advantage of the situation to goof off and ruin the spirit of the lesson.

My 14-year-old niece is currently reading the novel. I gave it to her as a junior-bridesmaid gift this summer. I can't wait to have a "book group" discussion with her. My sister tells me Jessica is savoring the book. This makes me so happy.

I'm tempted to read the novel again this weekend.

"New Music Throwdown"

Christopher Williams won! If he's coming to a venue near you, I recommend you go.

Trick-or-Treat Report

First: 2 teenage girls
Next: a group of 3 teenagers in non-descript costumes (one might have been going for the “80’s look” be the style of his windbreaker, but I actually think it wasn’t a costume). They also had a dog with them—a Bull Mastiff-Black Lab mix, dressed as a “ghost” (raggedy white t-shirt)
Then: pink butterfly (a cute little girl who redeemed my faith in the trick-or-treating tradition)
After that: various other groups of kids . . . little preschoolers dressed as animals, a duo from Lord of the Rings …Gandorf (which I initially thought was Moses with his staff!) and the shadowy villain from LOR.

The Treat: juice boxes—100% juice. (Judd remembers getting this as a kid and loved it because he always got so thirsty while trick-or-treating.)

Reviews: One girl exclaimed to her mother as they were walking down our path from the porch back to the sidewalk, “I got juice!”

Beatnik Jack: “That’s the coolest pumpkin we’ve seen tonight!”, from a group of middle schoolers—including one who said she was dressed as a “runner at night…it was a last minute thing”. (Costume: reflective vest, headlamp over a knit hat, plus other embellishments…creative.)

Back-up Treat: sour Skittles (tantalizingly sour!) … and one of Judd's favorite candies.
Reviews: big hit; preferred over juice, of course. I suspect word spread fast on the sidewalk which houses had the good stuff. Since Judd shopped for our treats at Costco, I was giving out 1.8 oz packages.

(Clarification: I had solo duty, because Judd worked late at the hospital—though he only found out about his schedule on Friday. We were disappointed to not commemorate our “First Halloween as a married couple giving out candy in our house”.)

Back to the Skittles . . .
There was the “transition group” where I was ran out of juice boxes and had to grab the Skittles. But then some of the first kids from this group wanted to trade in their juice boxes for candy. As the last girl was finished, one really little boy (age 4?) from the group came back up to me at the door with a forlorn look, clutching his juice box with both hands. I squatted down to his level and asked him, “Would you like candy instead of juice?” But he just shook his head, and turned away. (Some kids know that sour candy can be a wild party on the tongue!)

Resurgence of “older” participants: including a very developed, post-pubescent male with facial hair. Hmmm…

Interesting twist: 2 teenage girls collecting canned food items for their school club food drive. Young humanitarians.

Shop Closed, porch lights off – Skittles and juice are gone: turned away those still desperately seeking candy…in the 8:00 hour, a little “devil” girl; 9:00 hour, group of 5 gothic looking teenagers.

Total number of Trick-or-Treaters: 55

Emerson’s experience: not willing to keep his witch hat on, went crazy every time someone came to the door.

The Point of writing about this: there is none, really.

Emerson says, "Happy Halloween!"

"Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. See the little witch hat my mom made me wear? I can't wait for all those little kids to come to our door tonight. This year's pumpkin is pretty cool. It was a 25-pounder!" - Emerson, husky

beatnik poet face

nightcap: a glass of wine, "medium bodied with flavors of strawberry and spice"

Likes:

• cranberry and white chocolate chip scones
• Oregon Chai – instant chai tea latte mix … simple and tasty
• Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte (addictive sweetness, similar to but better than their Chai Tea)
• writing with gel pens
• wearing scarves
• sidewalks carpeted with golden-orange leaves
• Rockwood Boulevard
• artsy wine bottle labels

Indifferent:

• Houses with Halloween decorations

Recently spotted within a walk or bike-ride radius of our house -

1. Creative: a historic home with the simple decoration of Dracula’s crooked tombstone next to the stone steps leading up to the house
2. Tacky: blow-up ghosts
3. Cliché: white cotton fake spider web stuff stretched everywhere
4. Freaky: a collection of mannequin heads decorating the front porch (seriously, there were about 15-20 heads!)
   

Dislikes:

• taking I-90 to work and feeling like a “commuter”
• “decrapitating” the backyard (i.e., picking up Emerson’s poo)

* * *

If you come to our house on Halloween you might just get…a juice box or Sour Skittles.

* * *

In the book bag:
Always Beginning – Essays on a Life in Poetry, by Maxine Kumin
Published by Copper Canyon Press (one of my favorites), 2000.

This book is divided into six parts. I’m skipping around as the essay titles interest me. So far I’ve enjoyed:
“Interstices”
“Swimming and Writing”
“Motherhood and Poetics”
“For Anne at Passover” (Kumin’s analysis and explanation of this background personal context of this poem by the same name.)

. . . and I realize now that if I listed anymore essay titles, I might as well list the entire table of contents.

Kumin and Sexton were best friends, although that's not how I became interested in her. I first became interested in Kumin’s poetry after I read an interview with her from an anthology of poet interviews (whose title I can’t recall now). I’ve partially read through her book of poems The Long Marriage (I think is the title)—although I might be confusing Kumin now with Carolyn Kizer in this regard. The essential factor regarding my greater than keen interest in certain poets is when I’ve obtained biographical insight into their lives as writers…what forces breath into their poems, what feeds their writing life—hence my fascination with Sexton and Plath.

In regards to more contemporary poets, Paul Guest is a poet whose work I really enjoy. I read his first book last spring for thesis hours, based on Jonathan’s personal recommendation. I found Paul’s blog, heard an online recording of him reading his poems (from Slate.com), and have had brief email correspondence with him. I look forward to his second book of poems.

Meeting a poet face-to-face also makes a considerable impact on the amount of interest I have in a certain book, or in that entire poet’s body of work. It definitely increases the amount of compassion I have for that poet, whether stemming from my admiration in their accomplishment (as in, “You worked really, really hard to get this manuscript of poems completed and ready for publication”) or my respect for their character (i.e., thought going through my head: “I don’t always understand or love your poems, but there are a few I really enjoy…either way, because you are such a kind and interesting human being, I like your poetry”). I won’t list their names here, lest they someday are inclined to google their name to see who is “blogging” about them. (Yeah, like they have time for that!)

Throughout my limited exposure and intermingling with writers (of both poetry and prose) at readings and/or workshops in Seattle and Spokane, here is a list of the most memorable… Sherman Alexie, Malena Mörling, Gerald Stern, Michael Van Walleghan, Rick Bass, Anne Lamott, Rita Dove, Dorianne Laux, Lief Enger.

I think writers (as a type of celebrity, as opposed to actor celebrities) are the most gracious and kind. Don’t you agree?

I remember my response to a high school student who was questioning why I was making such a big deal (i.e., showing excitement) about Leif Enger reading in Seattle (author of Peace Like a River), and I responded: “He’s like the Tom Cruise of fiction.” Perhaps this was a slight mis-exaggeration, but my point at that time was that Enger’s book was incredible and therefore Enger was cool. His book was becoming more popular (this was fall of 2002), gaining interest from a broad range of literary readers, and I was trying to make a point to this particular 17-year-old that Writers are cool people, too—worthy of our attention…people who have achieved success; who impact our culture, cause us to think, contribute worthwhile substance to our lives.

distractions

"The northern city of Turin [Italy] passed a law in April to fine pet owners up to $598 ( 500 euros) if they do not walk their dogs at least three times a day." - from the article "Rome bans goldfish bowls, orders dog walking"

Death Cab for Cutie on NPR.

More from NPR:

• A Family of 'Vows': The Son of a Priest and a Nun
• Writer Walter Kirn, on a 'Mission to America'

Nebraska poet

Great story on NPR today... Poetry: At Home with Poet Laureate Ted Kooser

Very cozy, touching--and at the end of the interview with Melissa Block he reads his poem "So This is Nebraska".

Kooser, in this interview, discusses his daily writing routine--gets up at 4:30 in the morning and tries to write poetry until 7:00. Yikes! But he does admit that 9 days out of 10, no worthwhile poems result. But that at the end of the year, if he has a dozen good poems, that is good enough. "Be there when the geese come in"... or as Jonathan Johnson says, "It's like money in the bank." That investment of time in writing drafts, journal writing...nurturing the writing life.
Speaking of Nebraska, the summer issue of Prairie Schooner has 2 of Johnson's new poems in it.

quote of the day

"You're not qualified to govern this country at this moment in time if you don't understand the uses of TV. In fact, those in public life should be required to watch it. It's like Google Earth for the national psyche, hovering over the landscape, zooming in."
- Anna Quindlen, Newsweek columnist

Just this weekend I was introduced to Google Earth by my brother-in-law. Very cool.

What I mean is....

To follow-up on my previous post title, I reference myself with Plath and Sexton only on the basis of the historical context, and lineage, of women's poetry and the understanding that Poetry as an artistic expression of the human experience--and as such, the Poet draws from her own life for context and ideas, as either a focus or a springboard to another idea. Other than that, I do not associate or connect with either Plath or Sexton regarding their lifestyle or personal values. The more I've been reading about Sexton's life, the more appalled I am--at the same time I feel sorry for her. Not only did she engage in self-destructive behavior (though her mental illness did make her incapable of making safe decisions, for the most part), but she made really bad choices with her daughters--including sexual abuse. (Read Middlebrook's book regarding the details.) I plan to read Linda Gray Sexton's memoir next, Searching for Mercy Street: My Journey Back to My Mother, Anne Sexton. (That's one way to get back at your mom!)

Plath and Sexton were both extremely passionate about Poetry, obsessive even in some respects and perhaps unhealthy in ways.

Are we women poets all destined, statistically, to a lesser life expectancy?

Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, and .... me?

I've been indulging in biographies about these two fascinating poets. This weekend I finished reading Her Husband: Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes, by Diane Middlebrook, which focused on the "literary marriage" of these poets and their mutual impact on each other as artists. And I just found some intriguing study questions for this book (as well as some Q&A responses with the author, a Spokane native). Middlebrook read all the other published biographies of Plath during her research for her book, which creates a more balanced and credible perspective. (Now I've started Anne Stevenson's biography about Plath, Bitter Fame--such a dramatic title!)

After reading in Sexton's biography (also written by Middlebrook) about Anne's friendship with Syliva, I wanted to detour for a little bit and catch up on my understanding of Plath. I am awed by Plath's intense determination to be a (famous) writer--a tenacious pursuit she exhibited throughout her life. And the irony of her being more famous after her death (like most writers)--which made Anne jealous. (And the romantized view of the writer's life ending in such dramatic fashion.)

Middlebrook documents the literary life of Sexton and how her life circumstances bled into the creation of her poems, detailing the specifics of how those poems were first drafted and the real-life inspiration for them. For example, I knew I had read somewhere a mention that Sexton and James Wright had an affair, but it wasn't until Middlebrook's biography that I learned the specifics of this connection. (Though it was brief as an "affair", they had a deep friendship and she dedicated one of her books to Wright.) Middlebrook then examines those loves poems which Sexton actually composed for Jim. So now, I'm slowing down with the biography and cross-referencing--looking through Sexton's Complete Poems and a collection of her prose and interviews, No Evil Star, which includes Sexton's memoir essay of Plath.

more later...

Today's food for my brain

Today on NPR . . . Joan Didion, Writing a Story After an Ending. Very touching. Some interesting comments by Didion on her faith or lack thereof. "I suppose it would be comforting [to have a certain kind of strong faith], but there is no way I could have it," she says in the interview. Sad. And after a pause in the interview, while Didion needed to collect her thoughts (and subside some tears), she was informed that her memoir was nominated for the National Book Award.

And the Quills winners. Anne Lamott was one of the nominees for the Religious/Spirituality award. And I'm slightly embarassed to say that I know of Debbie Macomber, the Romance winner. She's from Port Orchard, WA. My mom is a big fan of hers, all starting with Macomber's series of "Dakota" romance novels. I accompanied my mom once to an "Author Book Signing" event at Waldenbooks in the mall. There was no one in line, virtually no one else in the store except the bookstore employees and Debbie and her daughter. My mom got her book signed and a small tea sample. She was thrilled (my mom, that is).

back to poetry

age: 30 years, 10 months
significant life event: got married
next significant event: changed my last name, made maiden name my new middle name

I like the physical name change which corresponds with the life-circumstance transition. Not only am I learning to live with my new husband, but learning more about the way his analytical-science mind thinks. Learning how to be a more patient and selfless person. Learning how to love him better each day.

Not much poetry being written these days. Notes in my head. Ideas. Images.

I'm working full-time as a Technical Writer right now. At least that is one aspect of my job. I review (proofread/edit) background investigation reports on subjects seeking access authorization to privately-owned (corporate) nuclear power plants. I train the investigators on how to write succint, logical, and organized investigation notes, how to follow procedures, etc. I write the procedures, actually. Sometimes I do some investigating as well. Despite working long hours each week lately, I have had some time to read. Especially today while my husband was flyfishing in Montana with his father. (Think River Runs Through It.)

On the nightstand bookshelf:
Anne Sexton: A Biography, by Diane Wood Middlebrook
Poetry and Ambition: Essays 1982-88, Donald Hall

and Jeremy's back....with a picture of my dad, Chico (the family chihuahua), and me (see Sept. 19th post).

....one last thing...Rebecca, in Colorado, are you reading this?

One Month

First month of marriage. Good.

Busy at work, long hours. Bad.

Reading books on poetry. Trying to figure out who I am, again.

Missing Alaska...Resurrection Bay and Seward, time to play all day.

Honeymoon, Alaska's Kenai Peninsula

too busy for poetry?

Aside from reading a chapter or two of Sam Ligon's book every night, and sometimes in the morning during breakfast, I've been re-reading women who do too much: how to stop doing it all and start enjoying your life...an inspirational book by Patricia Sprinkle, published by Zondervan. It's written from a Christian perspective, but it's not like the typical "Christian devotional book"....it's part memoir, part instructive, with just a few questions thrown in to for self-reflection...it's like getting wise advice from a mom or aunt. And Sprinkle has published mystery novels, even though Christians in her life disapproved, but it was her passion and she was loyal to it.

I haven't been loyal to my poetry lately. I have lines and phrases written on napkins and scratch paper, gathering near my desk. I haven't fully unpacked and set up my study after moving the last weekend of June. My Technical Writing job keeps me busy 30+ hrs a week, and when I'm not there I've been either walking Emerson, unpacking, spending time with friends, working on the last of the wedding plans, spending time with Judd (which usually ends up being more wedding planning or discussion about key items)...and my Subaru Outbook has been chugging and coughing, and after a new fuel filter, spark plug lines, a $200 mechanic bill, and a $10.99 bottle of fuel injector cleaner it's still running bad. This is the NOT the month for extra car expenses! But there's no way that car, a 2002 with over 84k miles, is going to make it to Seattle and back unless it gets fixed.

So Technical Writing pays these bills, and it is interesting and I'm learning more, and I like my co-workers...but I'm anticipating the time when I can get into the new poetry books I've been wanting to read, come back to some drafts saved on my computer, put some new lines into Word, set up base camp at a coffee shop table for a few hours and feel like I'm really devoting time and energy into my craft. Life right now is just such a different pace than it was during grad school, especially the quarters preceding the last one which heavily-focused on thesis compilation, revision, and oral defense preparation.

Aside from work, the new house is cute...an old early 1940's looking house, close to Manito Park and Rockwood Bakery...Emerson loves lounging in the yard which offers shade, dirt to dig in, and grass to sleep in, plenty of sunshine, a concrete slab for his kennel, and a back door with a window for looking in. He loves to sit outside of it and look inside, or just nap outside the door with the big windchime that hangs above and plays the most beautiful tones. Raspberry bushes grow along one fence and the berries are starting to ripen this week. Last weekend I thought one was a salmon berry, and realized it had been way too long since I ate fresh raspberries off the vein--I was forgetting what they looked like! My parents have huge rows of raspberry bushes in their garden and my Fourth of July memories are filled with picking bowls and bowls of raspberries, my parents making jam, my dad's homemade raspberry pie, raspberries on vanilla ice cream, raspberries on cereal... For now, Judd and I enjoy them with French Vanilla ice cream. Judd wants to make jam. I've tasted his homemade jam before--not too bad. Another impressive quality in my fiance. And moving showed me he's great with tools, spacial conception (which I already knew, but it was strongly reinforced), disassembling and reassembling Emerson's kennel, putting up Emerson's zipline run, doing yardwork (edging, hedge-trimming, mowing--anything having to do with power tools).

This past week we went sailing on Lake Pend Orielle in northern Idaho and watched a fireworks show with our good friends who today moved back to Colorado (Ft. Collins/Boulder area), we also took swing dance lessons with them, drank margaritas, drank "Duck Farts" another night, enjoyed an enchilada dinner and went with them on a last walk to Manito Park. But they'll be back to Spokane, to visit family and us! And we're excited to visit them.

Also this week, my friend Teri gave birth to her twin boys (July 5) just as she was approaching the 36 week mark.

In other news, the bridesmaid dresses are stuck in customs in New York, RSVP numbers are lower than expected, meeting with our cool photojournalist wedding photographer tomorrow, and I leave in a little over a week for San Francisco for a business trip (which I hope to combine with some fun since I have some good college friends who live there!).

And tomorrow will be exactly 4 weeks before my wedding.

* * *
an excerpt from Patricia Sprinkle's book:
"...writing mysteries and other fiction is my call from God. Saying yes to that calling in spite of what others think released God to open doors in amazing ways. It has also been a major means of reducing stress and providing energy in my life.

Think for a moment about women who focus most of their time and attention on things they love. Aren't they women who smile and laugh a lot, women who have lots of energy, who have time to spend an hour or two with a friend without guilt that they ought to be doing something else? Those women are cooperating with the design Goid is weaving in their lives, functioning as God intends us all to funciton: energized by and enjoying what we do and living with enthusiasm, laughter, and leisure."

- from Chapter 4, Wise Up Before You Burn Out

lillian hellman and body odors

I'm not sure about this previous statement, but that is a phrase that someone put into google and then found my blog.

I did think of Lillian yesterday, because I ate a "Dash Ham Melt" sandwich--named after Lillian's longtime partner--at the Liberty Cafe next to Auntie's Bookstore. It was okay...ham was a little too salty.

At night before going to bed, I've been reading Safe in Heaven Dead, by Samuel Ligon and really like it...and not just because Sam is an EWU professor and the advisor for "Willow Springs"...or because I moved into his neighborhood. (Just a few nights ago, him and his two kids were coming down the sidewalk and we chatted for a few minutes.) The details about the union and political organization is a bit confusing at times, and I think I shouldn't read it so late at night...but the character development is compelling. And I enjoy the quick pace of the action.

I have two new poetry books I've been wanting to start reading--one is by Ruth Stone. I'm also set to begin Donald Hall and William Stafford's prose books on poetry. And there are some new poem drafts that need some attention again.

The post-MFA mission: how to figure out a schedule that allows for the creative process and production to occur, while maintaining a work and personal schedule that pays the bills and provides a meaningful, fulfilling life that imbeds purpose into my daily experiences.

Maybe I'm being too idealistic and asking too much. Maybe not.

Any suggestions from others who work at one job and then write at home in the evenings/mornings/weekends?

Photos from Memorial Day weekend trip

These are long overdue, but still beautiful to share. We traveled to Idaho and Montana over the course of 5 days. I had all my thesis books with me to read again and take notes. The fly-fishing wasn't too great, but the weather was very nice and we found a great (and free) campsite in MT.
(The pictures are in reverse chronological order from that weekend.)

Emerson wading in the north fork of the Bull River.

My fly-fisherman!

Emerson hanging out in the grass at our campground near the Bull River in NW Montana.

Near Harrison Lake (and Harrison Peak), somewhere outside of Bonners Ferry, Idaho. We were surprised to find so much snow still around at 6,000' at the end of May, especially after such an abnormally dry winter and early spring.


A beautiful moose ran by our tent in the morning and right by Emerson (we discovered later by the tracks). Emerson was more intrigued than intimidated (maybe he thought it was a type of horse), which is lucky for all of us.

Emerson absolutely LOVES snow! And backpacking.

so many changes

...MFA graduation, a new job position, new writing projects on, new house to rent, bridal shower in Seattle...i write this from my sister's house, looking out into her backyard at a small red barn that houses their family's chickens...soon I'll be playing Nintendo with my 11-year-old nephew who will challenge and humble my computer game driving skills once again.

My emulation of Lillian Hellman's memoir style

Stiff blue carpet and dark, wooden pews stretched across the expanse of the large church. My parents always chose to sit near the front on the right side. Even when we arrived almost late for ten o’clock Mass, my mother would rush my father, siblings and me up the aisle to squeeze into the last remaining spaces in the pew and crowd those already waiting there. Sometimes, when there was obvious space for a family of five, my mother would show a smug smile indicating how she perceived our invisibly reserved section, as if the other families knew not to sit there because we would eventually be coming.

What I also remember is the smooth-looking skin of the young, handsome priest and his brown eyes that resembled slightly melted M & M candies. He is the one standing next to me in the photograph which commemorates that rite of passage ordained for every second-grade child at St. Stephen’s the Martyr Catholic Church—the sacrament of Holy Communion, the First Eucharist.

I vaguely recall there were a few catechism lessons and practice sessions (how to place our hands—palms up, left one resting in the right like an oval candy dish), all of which were organized by a few religious education leaders and some parents. But how much could a group of seven and eight-year-olds really understand in regards to centuries old tradition and doctrinal teaching? It would be many years later until I finally started to understand the complicated theology of the Catholic Church. We were polite, though, as much as a group of white, suburban church kids are expected to be. Though I’m sure we shifted in our seats and picked our noses more than listened to the elementary-simplified explanations of this very important sacrament.

One thing I do remember well is the dress. I can still feel its crinkly pleated skirt and chiffon sleeves. Though I preferred sundresses and saltwater sandals, I knew this pristine white dress meant I was ready to receive the host—a small flat circle of processed bread-like ingredients, imprinted with a cross. This dress was like wearing an invisible palm over my mouth, I was such a good girl. To make my transformation as the “bride of Christ” complete, I also wore a small white plastic crown with an attached veil. But I didn’t feel holy or pious. Instead, I felt scratchy and confined. I submitted to my fate in the J.C.Penney department store girls’ fitting room. (Though I would realize that day of the sacramental Mass that I was merely playing the role, while inside I knew I perceived the divinity of Jesus in a more personal, relevant way.) At that moment in front of the three-way mirror, with my mother gushing over how beautiful I looked, I really did feel like a pre-pubescent bride. But it was all just a costume. This early veil-wearing experience would eventually ruin my desire to wear a wedding veil. Now all I can think of is how I already wore one and walked down the aisle, though I didn’t want to marry God; I just wanted him to love me.

It would be over ten years later, when I moved away for college, that I started to really define my own spirituality. Even though I would make more conscious decisions of the heart in junior high in regards to God, faith, and Creation, I didn’t have courage to change religious affiliations until I was eighteen. Even then, it was a fairly silent transition. I just didn’t go to Mass anymore. But I didn’t turn away from God; I simply started going with my college friends to the Presbyterian church that was within walking distance from our dorm. (None of us had a car, and it was the only church close enough to walk to, but they also warmly reached out to the college students.) I also joined “The INN”—a college ministry that met on Tuesday evenings. Their gatherings featured a worship band, overhead transparencies with the song lyrics, and intellectual, application-based teaching by a pastor named Mike. I embraced this new mode of religion, of grace and spirituality, because at age 7, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t have a choice. I realized even at the time that the rituals, especially that processional of small brides and grooms, was more for our parents, as evidence they were raising good Catholic children and keeping a good Catholic home.

At age seven, I didn’t even know about fractions yet, how could I understand the Holy Trinity and the metaphysical transformation of bread to flesh, wine to blood? I didn’t revere the sacrament. I remember feeling more nervous and slightly scared, actually. I only cared about no longer being left behind in the pew while my parents and older siblings took Communion every Sunday at Mass. I wanted to swallow wine. I wanted to place God on my tongue and digest his body.

Though I understood the implied mystery of this ritual and the significance of my initiation into the sacrament, I didn’t learn to appreciate the symbolism of it until much later. It was at “The INN” one night before spring break with candles, acoustic guitar music, and surrounded by my closest friends. Pastor Mike ripped a sourdough mound of bread in half, like the round loaf found in the grocery store bakery section, and he said the same words of Jesus and the handsome priest. Then Mike placed the bread on the large wooden table at the front of the church sanctuary, next to two cups—one labeled wine, the other grape juice. Then in reverent fashion, we walked individually to the front to have our own moment with God. That night I walked to Him, tore off a wispy piece of bread, dipped one corner into the cup of wine and ate it. Rather than being compelled by tradition and family expectation, this moment was an act of love.

When I look back on the photographs from that First Eucharist Mass in the spring of 1982, I see the distinct discomfort on my face. I’m not smiling with my teeth showing like I normally do. Instead, my lower lip is biting my upper lip on one side. My hands are clasped tightly together, knuckles turning white, and one foot and ankle is rolled outward, so the sole of my shoe stares at its mate. The handsome priest has his right arm gently resting around me with his hand on my shoulder. He has a slow smile, like an awkward too-tall groom. He was maybe thirty-years-old and did not realize how many years away I was from really being married.

**Note on Form: use of flash-forwards, treatment of authorial self vs. narrative self, and tone is meant to emulate what Hellman does in her first memoir, An Unfinished Woman. This was turned in as a three-page, double-spaced essay for Nonfiction II final, along with a five-page essay analyzing Hellman's nonfiction technique and style.

comments, please?

...if you're stopping by...won't you? You don't have to...but I see my stats and kind of wonder who actually stops and reads (since there are 311 unique visitors so far)...what do you think about what you read here? Would you come back again? (Some of you do.)

So, if you are not too shy, please comment on something you like, offer some insight or advice, book recommendations, etc. Since I'll soon be a post-MFA student, the content will be changing slightly...if you are a fellow writer, please tell me what you do to keep yourself accountable, motivated, inspired...what works and doesn't work for you; what are your favorite literary websites and journals; what are you reading; where are you submitting work; where are you being published, and so on...

After I find a new place to live, I'm going to start sending out poems (or at least get the submission packets ready to send out in the fall) to literary magazines. First on my list are: Prairie Schooner, Artful Dodge, Denver Colorado, and Colorado Review. (subject to change, of course)

Today I made final changes to my thesis manuscript. Rearranged the order of contents a little bit, revised a line here and there, took out 2 poems that I feel need more revision still and feel disconnected from the rest of the manuscript because of their need to be polished just a bit more. I'm heading out soon to the Spokane Center's computer lab to use their laser printer, then will take my required 4 copies (for binding) to the Graduate Studies Office in Cheney tomorrow morning.

Then...I have some Willow Springs submissions to read and turn into the editors. Then...I will be completely done with all of the requirements for the completion of my Masters of Fine Arts degree. Whoo-hoo!

This weekend:
* MFA graduate reading this Friday night at Center Stage
* Graduate Commencement, Saturday afternoon in Cheney . . . Jonathan is "hooding us"

what we look for

I find it funny and fascinating that people have found my blog when they typed these phrases into search engines:

• ralph waldo emerson and ladybugs
• poetry is a passion not a habit
• clip art husky head

These three have been the most interesting by far. Fun!

And I'm currently procrastinating from finishing my very, very last final paper for my graduate school career. It's a bit sad, though it's more exciting to feel the celebratory feelings that comes with accomplishing this 2 year commitment that has consumed my life both emotionally, financially, and creatively.

Last night, before my last class session ended the teacher had some parting words to say to commorate the end...(unfortunately, we haven't had our regular professor for quite a few weeks due to illness and surgery...sure missed learning from her this quarter, but oh well...just praying that her health improves)...anyway, Kristen warned/encouraged (who's only 25 with a first book out...got her MA in Creative Writing at UC-Davis) us that our writing life will be definitely be different once we are separated from "the program"...and that (well, at least this was true for her) we would have to learn to write again...meaning, without the crutch of workshop, an advisor, the creative stimulation of our classmates/fellow writers, deadlines, and structured writing, well...we have to kind of figure it out again, that is, answer: "Well, what do I do now?"

For me, that means...how do I figure out a writing schedule while I work a 30-40 hour/week job that pays the bills. Who will be my post-MFA workshop comrades?...those poet friends who will be the ones we share poems with (for response and critique, either by email/mail or phone). And now that I have a manuscript, what will I do with it? (the plan now: submit poems to literary magazines, something I just did not have time for this school year...continue revising and working them). I also have some poems that I did not include in my thesis because they were not revised enough, and I needed more space from them...so I look forward to working on those. Plus, I have a bunch of new ideas that I'd like to get some drafts started. And now that I studied all my thesis books with such depth, I want to work on some of my poems while paying attention to some of those craft ideas that I admired in others' work (keeping Halliday, Kasdorf, and Morling in mind, especially).

And I want to write more non-fiction essays and learn more about that craft.

And Jonathan is teaching a fun course in the fall (which hasn't been offered in 3 years), "Literature of the Pacific Northwest"...so I hope to sit in on that class a time or two, get the syllabus, and possibly go on the "field trip" (a literary journey to Montana to visit Richard Hugo's towns and bars from his poems).

Anyway, for now...one more final...the last one. Due Monday by noon.

I passed!

A successful oral examination (thesis defense) was completed yesterday...in the hot seat from 3:00-4:00 p.m. Celebrated with friends afterwards at The Steam Plant Grill. I've been overloaded with reading, skimming, and reviewing my thesis list of poetry books, making notecard notes (which I didn't even really refer to during my defense). I used tons of little post-it flags to mark poems in each book that I would discuss, as needed during the course of the discussion. I definitely over-prepared in ways that weren't necessary, ultimately...but there was no way to know what I would be asked to recall, respond to, etc. I was hoping to talk more about Richard Hugo and James Wright, but ended up focusing on Halliday (his sincerity), Kasdorf (her subject matter, and construction of her book), with some Franz Wright (his sincerity vs. Halliday's) and Jack Gilbert (one of his lyric poems, vs. his narrative)...and then finally, some Malena Morling and discussion of her as a lyric poet.

Now that the major part is finished, I just have to polish up the manuscript, make a few changes (one title change, some possible rearranging of the order of poems), a few typos to fix (mainly hyphen additions and spacing issues)--then copy a nice laser-printed draft onto the thesis paper and take those 4 copies into the EWU Graduate Studies office in Cheney by 5pm on June 10th.

But until then...I still have a final for my nonfiction form/theory class to complete. Then, THEN...the blissful feeling of MFA completion will fully come!

P.S. Best part of preparing for my defense: reading Richard Hugo along the East Fork of the Bull River in Montana while camping with Emerson and my fiance for a few days over Memorial Weekend. A lovely time!

inspiration for a cover page

fascinating!

Feeling like Annie Dillard

the maple bug tree

see the little insects with their little wings
hiding on the underside of the leaf
shelter from the rain and sun
each day they multiply, never seem to fly away

Emerson's husky hair, soft as cotton when his undercoat sheds, the birds snatch it from the grass to make their nests, his springtime "blow out" and the subsequent big brush-out filled a entire bucket with airy, fluffy fur...I set the bucket on top of the fence next to a tree branch as an all-you-can-get buffet for the birds

that collective 15% Midwest is from North Dakota

Your Linguistic Profile:

80% General American English

10% Upper Midwestern

5% Midwestern

5% Yankee

0% Dixie

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

Rib Space

Now I want to be whoever I was at that moment
when I discovered my own breathing . . . .

— Malena Mörling, Ocean Avenue

. . . the soul
is nailed to us like lentils and fatty bacon lodged
under the ribs.

— Jack Gilbert, The Great Fires

. . . let me learn for myself all the desires
a body can hold, how they grow stronger
and wilder with age, tugging in every direction
until it feels my sternum might split
like Adam’s when Eve stepped out,
sloughing off ribs.

— Julia Kasdorf, Eve’s Striptease

(epigraphs used to intro my thesis poems)

cool

http://www.openpoetrybooks.com/calendar/

Sunday, June 05, 2005 at 04:00 PM EASTERN WA. MFA STUDENTS

For some years now, representatives from EWU's graduating class of MFA students have made the trek over the mountains to share their work with those of us on the wet (well, it used to be) side of the state. Charmingly and insightfully presented by their professor Jonathan Johnson, the readers this afternoon will be Amy Silbernagel, Jeff Dodd, Shannon Amidon, Agatha Beins, Elise Gregory, and Emily Benson.

Thesis is done!

... and all copies were delivered by Wed. afternoon to my readers (who are my thesis committee members). Phase I is complete...such a good feeling!

Even Emerson is happy!

Thesis Book List (final version)

1. Julia Kasdorf - Sleeping Preacher
2. Denise Duhamel - The Star-Spangled Banner
3. Malena Mörling - Ocean Avenue
4. Dorianne Laux - Awake
5. Ann Townsend - Dime Store Erotics
6. Kim Addonizio - Tell Me
7. Richard Hugo - The Lady at Kicking Horse Reservoir [1]
8. James Wright - The Branch Will Not Break [2]
9. Galway Kinnell - The Book of Nightmares
10. Jack Gilbert - The Great Fires
11. Tony Hoaglund - What Narcissism Means To Me
12. Mark Halliday - Selfwolf
13. Phillip Levine - What Work Is
14. Franz Wright - The Beforelife
15. James Harms - Modern Ocean
    

[1] from Making Certain It Goes On: The Collected Poems of Richard Hugo
[2] from Above the River: The Complete Poems

Alternates:

• Paul Guest - Resurrection of the Body and the Ruin of the World
• Sandra Alcosser - Except by Nature
• Campbell McGrath - American Noise
• Richard Hugo - Triggering Town (prose)
• ­Elizabeth Bishop - Geography III (from The Complete Poems)
• Mary Oliver - Dream Work --or-- New and Selected Poems ©1992
• Jeffrey McDaniel - Alibi School

raining again today

This weekend saw unusual amounts of hard rain...and I mean really hard rain, just pouring, which rarely happens here. So it's condusive for reading inside, going to the mall and doing registry stuff, working on a book of poems, reading books of poems.

I've seen only glimpses of the Spokane Falls while driving over the Maple Street bridge. The speed limit is 40 mph on the bridge, but I steal glances to the right to see them crashing just near the Monroe Street bridge. I'm very excited for that bridge to be done with its renovation project. It's been going on since the very first time I scoped out Spokane in July of 2003. So, the river is high, the falls are powerful, the drought conditions are not so bad anymore ... waterskiing conditions this summer should be good.

almost finished

(amy’s thesis title goes here)

A Thesis

Presented To

Eastern Washington University

Cheney, Washington


In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements

for the Degree

Master of Fine Arts, Creative Writing


Spring 2005

* * *

...need to figure out the final order of poems. I am going to lay them all out on the floor or stick them to the wall and pray that a title arises from the lines, and an inspired table of contents is born. Was up until 4:30 am tinkering, revising, organizing, and printing it all out, trying to do what a tired but still fairly high-functioning creative and inspired mind could do.

Open Books

Eastern Washington University MFA Poetry students will be reading from their thesis books on Sunday, June 5th at 4:00 at Open Books in Seattle.

6 poets will be reading, including me.

(still not sure if I can make it over next Tues. to see Franz....thesis is due that Wed...gotta finish the formatting, revise about 5 more poems, + revise another 5 with minor tweaking, and read/skim a few more poetry books to make final decisions about what will be included on my thesis reading list...oh, and I need to come up with a title! whew!)

slow-motion

Ever have one of those days where it feels like you can't move fast enough? Where it seems like everything is taking longer than it should be? Like your mind is moving a faster rate than your body is willing or even able to do? You're continually planning out and envisioning the next 60 seconds of your life and you just can't keep up?

Well, that's what today felt like. It seemed like I couldn't even refill my dog's water bowl as fast as I wanted to. I was impatient with each present task, knowing there were so many more to do. There was no seconds to waste.

Thesis anxiety is kicking in as the final 8 days approach to the deadline to give a complete photocopied manuscript to each of my committee members. At that time, I also need to provide them with a confirmed list of my thesis book list--15 titles in all. My oh my.

It will all get done...the optimistic corner of my brain knows that and repeatedly chants this to myself. I might be wearing the same cycle of clothes and not brushing my hair very often over this next week, but the thesis will get done. It has to. Sleep can always be sacrificed.

Yet, the quarter still moves on...and I'm attempting to keep up with the reading for my NF form/theory class. I'm liking Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, however, I'm only getting her in short doses so far. Tomorrow, I'm planning to read the book in larger chunks of time. On Saturday evening as I was reading the book and marking passages and lines I liked with a newly-sharpened pencil, my fiance's 4-year-old niece Emma (and my future wedding flowergirl) came alongside my chair and said to me, "You're writing in your Bible?!" I guess it is a pretty thick book...but I explained to her that it was a story book for school. "You go to school?!" she exclaimed. Emma goes to pre-school and has recently learned all about ladybugs--their wings, life cycle, etc. (Her rich and vibrant vocabularly rivals the men in the family.)

As I explained that I go to college, just like her mommy and daddy went to college, she paused to exclaim (most statements are a genuine exclamation for Emma), "My mommy and daddy went to college?!" I'm not sure what Emma's concept of college is.

Considering that Dillard is fairly spiritual (I learned that she was raised Presbyterian than converted to Catholicism as an adult), Emma's question about me writing in my Bible is interesting.

Nonetheless, I was quickly swayed into playing with Emma. What adult can resist a cute little girl asking, "Do you want to play with me?" She led me downstairs to the playroom and we enjoyed multiple rounds of "Simon Says." She let me go first at being "Simon" and she rotated our turns equally. My favorite of her requests, "Simon says: pretend like you're buckling your shoes." Then we played hide-n-seek, my personal favorite. The first time I was "it", I had to count to 5 and 1/2. I tried to pretend like I didn't know where she was hiding, though it was obvious from the sounds that she was behind the chair in the same room we were in. So, as I pretended to look for her under the table, she squealed, "I'm behind the chair!" The next time it was my turn to count, I had to count to 33. Obviously, she had a much tougher hiding place in mind. But before I could really look for her, she called out, "I'm in Papa's closet!" Oh, the joy of being four years old. That sweet, simple exhiliration of hide-n-seek. The suspense of waiting in a special hiding place and then the "surprise" of being found.

As a result, Dillard received little of my attention the rest of that evening.

This week I'm also reading Paul Guest's first book of poetry, The Resurrection of the Body and the Ruin of the World. Paul has a recent poem on Slate, and also has a blog! So far I'm only on page 33 of his book, but am enjoying it--as Jonathan said I would. I'll discuss it more with him on Thursday for our second thesis advising meeting this week.

Good night! It's one of those rare evenings in Spokane where it's raining really, really hard. It's like Seattle. Ah.

parody

I read about this in the paper, and had to visit the Wal-Mart parody website for myself. Great job to the college kid who did all this!

I read Nickeled and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America in the spring of 2003. I rarely shopped at Wal-Mart anyway, but after reading Barbara Ehrenreich's book I made a more informed decision to not support their corporation every again. (Sadly, the great novel and movie Where the Heart Is ends up glorifying the business in a spoof-like way.)

I admit, however, that I've shopped there at least 2 times since reading the book: once because I received a $50 gift card for a Christmas present and I bought much-needed groceries there, and another time I bought the Friends DVD there for my fiance's birthday present (it was the cheapest price I could find, except Amazon but I didn't have time to buy it from them), Valentine's Day boxers, and a pint of raspberry sorbet. (Really, what other store would allow me to purchase all of these items in one trip? Okay, maybe Fred Meyer.) I felt sort of bad about this second purchase, but it was also a financial relief to my budget in a way. However, I'm happy to say I've been "Wal-Mart Free" for over three months now, and I don't plan to go back. That's right. Never, ever again.

I've been trying to get my mom to stop shopping at this mega-retail giant and read Ehrenreich's book because she's a big Wal-Mart fan, but so far I've been unsuccessful. The store was next to the "Super Mall" so what could I do? And now a new one opened up this winter that's even closer to her house! Wal-Mart is the new K-Mart. I didn't grow up with Wal-Mart like kids in the South did, or like my nieces have now. Washington state kids in the 1980's didn't like to admit their mothers shopped there, and we took our P.E. clothes to school in the best plastic bags we could find (The Bon or Nordstrom were the coolest, the specialized bags from their junior departments). I remember quickly grabbing a bag from the pantry and only finding out later when I was at school that it was a K-Mart one. I was mortified and made sure no one saw it!!

bad poem

Just for the record, I don't think "Kissing John McPhee" is a good poem. It would get an enthusiastic rejection from me if it were to be submitted to Willow Springs. It's sentimental, melodramatic, and its predictable details about McPhee's life as a writer sucks any intriguing tension that might otherwise exist between the speaker and the situation. I don't think it's trying to be ironic or sarcastic, it seems to be a sincere attempt to be a form of author-worship, which makes it all the more cheesy. And the fact that McPhee wrote for The New Yorker, and just recently had a new essay published in it, makes it all the more cheesy. But, I must admit, you gotta admire a writer who writes poems for other writers and submits them to a magazine as big and prestigous as THE NEW YORKER!! And then documents (announces?) those submissions and rejections on her own blog! Now, that takes guts. (I'll keep my bad poems and rejection slips to myself, thank you very much.)

After NF form/theory class tonight and Jeremy's presentation on McPhee and his book (The Survival of the Bark Canoe), Jeremy suggested I write my own version of "Kissing John McPhee." I considered, but instead thought I'd rather write a poem called "Kissing Henri" (pronounced "on-ree", for those like me who aren't familiar with French names). But now it's late, and I can't muster the energy to write it, even though I drank Mountain Dew during class.

But if I were to write about my experience of reading McPhee's nonfiction book for class, it might go something like this...

Kissing Henri

Maine's wilderness and Thoreau, and now this:
sympathetic portrait
of twenty-five year old Henri,
lonely in his art, unmarried and still living
with his parents in his New Hampshire hometown.
He carved wood, remembered the best trees,
was obsessed with only this.
A white man seeking
mastery of the Indian bark-canoe.
I know it's hard to let go what you create.
Green beef jerkey breath,
faint orange stain
of Tang on your lips
and pressed
into the side creases
of your mouth,
please paddle faster for me.

Nonfiction Book of the Week

Subgenre: Research-Based Literary Nonfiction

• the details, the author and his writing life, and a poem called "Kissing John McPhee"

MFA choices

If I had to start all over, if I hadn't been at Eastern the past two years, I would strongly consider this program. A very intriguing philosophy. At the same time, any MFA program is what the writer makes of it. In my MFA program, I've been fortunate to have a number of classmates who also write from the foundations of the Judeo-Christian belief system. Though I wish there was greater opportunity for more organized discussion about this, it's come up. In Poetry II, Modernism Form & Theory, some of these ideas came up. And anytime a text alludes to Biblical themes or characters, this has been discussed.

One thing I know for sure, I love the residency MFA program. Moving to a new city to join a community of writers (while also making a newer community, as the incoming group of students), the bi-quarterly "Voice Over" events, the visiting writers, the after-parties, meeting for class each week, the internships (the university press, teaching/Writers in the Community, and literary magazine editing), the literary magazine editor meetings, meeting classmates for coffee, going for runs together, being immersed in the culture of writing...this is only possible with a program where we all come together face to face to live the writing life...especially for someone like me, who I would consider to be not such a traditional graduate student. I started grad school at age 28 (almost 29) after having a full-time public school teaching career for 5 years + a one-year sabbatical (hiatus/escape was more like it!) from the English classroom to work at a Christian camp for a year (marketing & promotions) . I didn't come right from my undergraduate studies, or come after obtaining a different master's degree first. I needed the routine, the motivation of community, the regular social interaction with professors and classmates. I have a friend in a low-residency MFA program for creative non-fiction. It wasn't her first choice, but her and her husband had established jobs in Seattle (hers already involved writing...to pay the bills).

Unless one chooses the research-based UW program or the UW certificate-program (not a credited degree, and far from an MFA course of study), then the choices were limited to low-residency programs. Now, Seattle area writers who want to pursue their MFA can choose from SPU's newly-created MFA program, the low-residency at PLU (which only began in 2004), move to Bellingham and get a MA in English with a Creative Writing emphasis at WWU, come to Eastern, pursue an out-of-state low-residency program or move out of state for a residency MFA program.

Sadly, I'm not quite ready for my experience to end. I now know why it's not such a bad thing to extend the thesis another quarter.

More MFA food for thought:

• "How to become the next great American novelist: A look at MFA creativewriting programs and other waysto make it as a writer"
• The Writer's Survival Guide:Chapter 5: The Education of a Writer

Franz Wright is coming to Seattle

Franz Wright, winner of the Second Annual Denise Levertov Award from Image Journal of the Arts and Religion speaks on Tuesday, May 17 at 7:30 pm at the Seattle Art Museum. Free. Public reception, celebration and booksigning follows.

For more information, see http://www.imagejournal.org/news/local.asp

"Image journal and the Department of English at Seattle Pacific University established the Levertov Award to honor one of the twentieth century's greatest poets. Levertov, who spent her last years in Seattle , embraced the landscape and culture of the Pacific Northwest. Levertov's identity as a Christian believer—a pilgrim whose faith was inextricably entwined with doubt—became another important facet of her work, particularly in her later poetry.

The Levertov Award is given annually to an artist or creative writer whose work exemplifies a serious and sustained engagement with the Judeo-Christian tradition."