Poem in Progress

This is the efforts of today's vacation. Although, nothing is ever finished till you're dead. I read another new(ish) poem at The Poet's Loft tonight. Even though it was only an open mic, there were - at the most - fifteen people in the room, and I was standing behind a podium, my knees still shook. Weening myself off propanolol may take longer than I had hoped. Luckily, I have plenty for Saturday's slam, so no shake-n-bake here. Memorization is another story.

I have decided
I don’t like things with definitive beginnings and endings.
Final destinations and points of embarkment
Should be as difficult to distinguish
As finding the edge of a globe.
Clocks should become antiquated and rust
While calendar pages should track only dust.
And I should never be able to measure a heartache
From the moment he told me it wasn’t love till today.

But the days close like books on my ability to say that
After the end,
When I deleted his number even though he said
we could still be friends,
I weighed the value of each event spent together
and decided none are worth the rent
They pay to occupy space in my memory.
One an entrance clattering open like doors in a storm
And then the exit orchestrated like twenty cellos playing the wrong chord.
I have been jarred from my seat and shaken –
It wasn’t my heart he had taken
but the fluidity of my days.

Now, I like my fits and starts to blend smoothly and seamlessly
Into the next occurrence,
Like the edges of sheets overlapped in the laundry,
One long unfolding of days without birthdays,
Christenings, funerals or break ups,
Or any disturbance that corrupts with the abruptness of the unexpected.
I want one kiss to last until the next and
To not divide life into eras.
I do not want a fossil record of characters to collect and categorize.
I’d fail the test that required me to memorize
Where each face fits in.

If there were no endings,
there would be no date on a calendar
By which I can measure the length of his leaving.
When the screen door slammed behind him
And broke summer in half,
I heard the months of the calendar laugh at my attempts to
Divide the year into seasons,
To supply his absence with a reason.

Today, I will mark it on my calendar for something amazing to happen,
For a firework to hang stranded and suspended above my roof.
I’ll tether it to a string and present it as proof
That things don’t have to fade or end.
Linear time is a concept philosophy can’t defend.

I have classified my existence by landmarks,
Phases I label by the names of people I loved,
Our meetings and partings are commemorated like holidays.
But today I resolve to denounce anything that
Detracts from the sanctity of now.
Forever trails behind this second
Like a parent straitening a bicycle,
It grips the seat and promises to “not let go.”
I pedal the minute forward and keep eternity in tow.

I’m turning a new corner
Where anniversaries don’t exist.
There is only what is and always was.
Thus, if I love you now you may assume that
I always have and always will.
I will swallow eternity like a pill and
Insure that if I loved you before, then I do, still.
I refuse the exorbitant cost of an ending,
To watch something that soared descending.

Without a then or a now,
I already know all of the people I will ever meet.
Shaking hands will become a mere formality and
I shall refuse to accept absolutes as acceptable rationality.

I crumple the table of contents of life,
Erase the index and chronology,
And bend the time line into a revolving circle.
The only death I accept is that of definitives.
I close their door,
And welcome the infinite.

Favorite Things ...this week

• Sometimes it's hard...


• We forget these things sometimes


• Out of tragedy comes...


• Hamsa tattoo


• Tuber or not tuber, THAT is the question.


• The killer of girl love


• Bad/good news for non-profits & the arts


• Living Enlightenment
• Duck butt!

and finally....

from iLove

Resolution of the day:

Learn to "swallow the frog."

Frustrated Flower Flinging

Found journal entry. Circa 2004

These have been three of the most frustrating days in the year. Is it because spring break is around the corner and the universe knows it needs to get its kicks in while it can? Between parents with personal agendas, getting ready to move (again), not agreeing on logic with my landlord, bad communication, administration I don't get along with, other human beings who nobody can get along with... it's been a bit rough.
Today, though, it was finally spring weather. The bradford pear trees are changing from white to green and the petals are lining the street curbs like snow. Michael and I took Bella for a walk around the Quapaw district, and I picked up a handful and threw them at him. Unfortunatley, they literally back fired. There are still bradford pear tree petals in my hair.
In all the spare time I have, I am going to study this article. Perhaps implementing some of its advice would lessen a bit of the stress I feel under. Or I could get a hobby, like shooting handguns or cage fighting...

Love Notes; One Hundred Places

Fairy Chimneys - Cappadocia, Turkey: visited 9th grade, 1999

"I've only been to 6 of these places. You've been to way more. I need to catch up, or at least go to as many of these places with you as possible. Love, Michael"

Great Barrier Reef, Australia: adventure waiting to happen

Dear Third Quarter,

OUT!

I think you should know that I am tired of the paper weights that have been sitting beneath my ears like shoulder pads, weighing down my posture and my performance, possibly damaging my ability to think straight and reason like a sane person. I apologize for the grades not entered .2 seconds after being handed in, but my turn over rate tends to be slow as I am a methodical individual with more side projects than trolleys at a circus freak show. But now, at 11:30 PM, after much procrastination, pain, and perturbation, it is all finished. And now, maybe I will have time for poetry without guilt. For an evening without homework hanging over my head like branches - the twigs poking me in the eye. But I digress. It is finished. And there are no more worries or assignments to haggle and heartbreak over until morning, when fourth quarter rears its long, drawn out head. Here's to the last stretch of school till summer, and survival.

March 14, 1982

Happy anniversary, mom & dad. If I could subtract properly, I'd figure up how many years it would have been. I suppose it is inappropriate to call dad and tell him "happy anniversary" today, since it's been five years now, but I'll still think it for the both of you.

Susan & Jann @ our last house in Texas, circa 2003

Creating an Internet Presence

It's amazing how long some things take. Or perhaps I'm just slow... always a possibility.

Over the course of the past couple months, I've been learning about the organizaiton Poets in the Street, as the two founders and C.E.O.'s will be moving in June to Chicago. It has taken me an hour to create a facebook "fan" page for this non-profit, and the page is simply fill in the blank. Clearly, I will need help in setting up a .org web address.

Working with the slam team I founded with two of my friends at the high school where I work has been the highlight of my year, and now working with the P.I.T.S. organization only makes it better. If only I could convince all of the administration to become fans, I would be set.

The fruits of my labor: Facebook "fan" page

Existant publicity: Myspace profile page

Literary Love

I've spent the past 40 minutes browsing literary tattoos at Contrariwise. I want (almost) all of them. Maybe I can justify eating all the cookies in that it will give me more tattoo space. I couldn't choose a favorite, but this one, the infinite alphabet, seems to sum up everything:


I've already planned my next two tattoos. The first, on the side of my right wrist, will simply be "MD." Pure insider knowledge. The second will not, in fact, be "YEATS" even though that's technically what I said when I went to drop off the design, but it will be a Yeat's quote on my right hip. From "Who Will Go With Fergus Now," I want:

"All dishevelled wandering stars"

with a picture of the Amanda's Pennant (celithemas Amanda) dragonfly flanking the lettering. If only money were no object... although because it is, I save myself some skin for all the things I want permanently added in my 30's, 40's, etc. So, perhaps not a negative after all. I am still jealous of Stephanie's shoulder blade tattoo: "for life is not a paragraph / and death I think is no parenthesis." I gave that poem to my students earlier this year, and they were not nearly as receptive as I was when I first came across those lines in high school. They seem to find cummings "too confusing."
I remind myself to be patient.

Hiatus Stasis Ends Now

What a naughty blogger; I've let my writing endeavor fall by the wayside since July. My new goal is to spend at least an hour writing every day: either blogging or poetry. I realize it may simply be time to admit defeat on fiction writing, at least for the time being. Currently I am missing the warm weather of the south to spend four days in Philadelphia for M's grandmother's funeral. As you can see by the above photograph, there is still snow on the ground. There are certainly trade offs for living in awesome cities. But if I recall correctly from my Chicago days, it becomes bearable.

I'm trying to decide what focus I want to give my posts, if any, as this is 99% for my sole entertainment. I've recently become involved with a non-profit poetry education organization, so I intend to chronicle that and all things poetry in Central Arkansas, as well as my own poetic endeavors that have been re-awakened through my enthusiasm for poetry in education. Speaking of, I have some editing to do. (And to any nay-sayers concerning Arkansas poets: the Hendrix slam team just took first place at regional competition in Corpus Christi, TX, and the University of Arkansas team has a history of kicking everyone's ass at nationals - so I am convinced that Arkansas is a veritable breeding ground for stellar poets - Miller Williams, anyone?).

I competed in my first slam at Community Bakery last month, won second place, and now need to work double hard to keep that sort of standing in the future. Especially since it means beating Lennon again :)

RedWhite&Blurred

Here is my new favorite shirt dress by BB Dakota that I bought for 50% off. The teacher's apple locket necklace is also a favorite. I've always had a thing for lockets.

In other news of favorites: Marcia Tate is AMAZING and if you work in education at all you must must go see and participate in one of her workshops. I shall be purchasing a light up magic wand very soon.

Sold!

How happy am I: simply stellar.

When I watched shows like Flip That House, I always wondered how in the world the people got the money to do these projects. Now the terms "creative financing" and "luck" suddenly take on meaning. Oh, and I need to mention "humungo risk" and "stupidity." That about covers it.

I watched the movie The Kite Runner tonight, and I'm quite certain that once I push the "sold" sticker out of my mind, I'm going to sit down and weep.

nail biting

This morning I got my first offer on the house. With a listing price of $99,900, the buyers offered a price of $95,500 but asked for me to pay up to $3500 in closing costs, making the total net offer $92,000. After a counter, a counter-counter, and a counter-counter, my final price is $98,500 with the closing costs covered, making the total net for me $95,000. I bought the house for $73,500 and paid $1000 of the closing costs. I'm hoping my pre-tax check from the mortgage company will come in at $20,000. That would make me very happy. Right now I have to wait and try to get sleep not knowing whether or not they will accept my final offer. I won't go lower than $95,000 - it'll be too close to breaking even, and I have put WAY too much blood and sweat into this house to break even or (NOOO!) take a loss. The excellent news, though, is that this offer came in this morning, after my house had been on the market for ONE WEEK.

If I get this hypothetical $20,000 check, though... none of it is really mine because I probably owe that much on my credit card between my graduate school tuition, my furniture, re-wiring this house, plus all the other renovation materials and costs - oh, and some new clothes and a plane ticket. My plan is to pay down almost half of the debt and put the rest in my bank account. I'll transfer the rest of my debt to a new card with a year of 0% interest, and hopefully my next renovation will yield enough to pay off all debt and put me on top of where I would have been had I never dabbled in real estate. The goal is to get enough money to pursue some writing and travel. I want to be wreckless in my youth, I also want to be well and independently funded. My grandmother had to loan me money this month in order to keep my head above water. I could have done without it, but it would have cut very close to the danger zone. Neither borrowing nor having $100 dollars to my name feels very good. Come on, accept my counter-counter-counter offer!

I had been planning to go to a teacher workshop tomorrow called "Worksheets Don't Grow Dendrites" which is supposed to be amazing, but sadly I realized that it is 1.5 hours away in a rural elementary school cafeteria. This location for the workshop makes no sense to me, and I decided to bow out. I'll spend the day tidying up my yard in case the offer doesn't go through and more buyers need to come through. Friday's workshop, "Shouting Won't Grow Dendrites" is by the same lady, and is actually being held in a place I know - my own school! I'll go to that one. I need sixty professional development hours per year, and I'm on the cusp of throwing in the towel on finding another job. The towel is pretty much in the hamper. An extra year of teaching will probably be better for me in the long run - but I'm sad to say that I am not looking forward to it. I hate the commute, and as much as I like English literature and most of my students, (I adore quite a few), I hate repeating myself literally six times a day. My goal is to eventually have a job that neither makes my brain numb nor gives me cotton mouth. Again: come on, accept my final price! Patience is overrated.

The big accomplishment for today, though: I got my bike tuned up at Chainwheel and purchased (spending my profit again) a bike rack for my car. The bike is back, and I couldn't be more excited! This evening I went around part of the River Trail - I saw two skunks (a safe distance away) and birds sweeping the sky at sunset. Biking is surely the sport of dreamy nature lovers.

the only love letter

strawberry fields forever

this is my mother's night gown from when she was young; it is strange to me that it has survived longer than her.

On Edge

Two people(s) have come through my house now, and no word yet as to whether they liked it, hated it, or left completely apathetic. It is nerve wracking to know that people are coming in to your house, judging any work you've done on it, judging your decorating taste, judging your cleaning skills, and judging your personal life based on the few trinkets and photos deemed worthy to remain on display. I've been keeping close tabs on the other houses listed in a similar price range. There are a few I would consider serious competitors in that they are or are close to being up-to-date and have an extra bathroom and/or bedroom. The competition adds to the nerves. I have spent the majority of my time off cleaning and scrubbing my house in order to keep up appearances, (and keep me from getting bored). I'm hoping that waiting for my first home sale is similar to waiting for other monumental firsts such as getting a first kiss, being offered my first real job... they are all bound to happen EVENTUALLY. It is simply the patience that might kill me.

Look out, Boston!

Joanie, Dave, Me, Sarah, Ana, and Josh outside the White House c.2003

I just bought my tickets to go see two of my best friends from my year at George Washington! We're going to meet in Boston, MA and the first thing on the agenda is to go see Julia sing/play in her band The Deckhands. I'm so excited by the combination of seeing Joanie and Julia and going on an actual trip. My poor American Express card is officially maxed out now (thanks Continental); travelling is not a luxury for the masses. Nonetheless, I do have to recommend cheaptickets.com. I spent two hours searching kayak.com, Yahoo Travel, AirTran, Southwest, etc., and this search yielded the best price, (but just barely).

My house is officially on the market as of two days ago. This is the truly nerve wracking part: will anyone actually want to buy what I have worked so hard (and spent so much) on? The MLS is 10198741, and the official asking price is $99,900. I've already got my eye on another project if I actually sell this one. Two days and no visitors, though. I feel a little bit like an artist or musician who has just put a piece out there and is now certain it sucks. How disconcerting.

The process of putting it on the market was easier than I thought. It consisted of signing one piece of paper, and for once I did not have to write a check to anyone. My realtor took the pictures, posted a sign out front and it was done. Now my job is to keep the place clean, (which isn't hard for me - somewhere in between being a messy five year old and now I became a neat freak). I had been very hesitant to put it on the market, thus why I've lived here for a month without doing so. I'd liken the experience to breaking up with someone you've been thinking about leaving for some time. Once it's done you wonder why it ever took you so long.

I also finally listed my wedding dress (never worn - yes, I'm an engagement breaker) as "for sale" on craigslist and the Arkansas Times. I think letting that go is going to be a huge step in my resolve to get out and explore the world in the coming years of my life. Up till now my resolve had been to get married - and according to my friend Stephanie, it had been to have this act done by age 23, although I don't have ANY recollection of the passionate insistance of this that she swore I made. Selective memory.

Tomorrow is my last day as a "substitute summer school teacher." I've been a bad teacher this week - assigning work and sitting at the back of the class rather than doing active teaching. For this one week, I've made up my mind not to care. I'd prefer not to fight with students to see that their work gets done - they are already on chance no. 2, and quite frankly I don't wish to expend the energy. I have other places to channel it - like getting ready to go and have an amazing time in Boston!

An early wake up call.

Writing gives me affirmation that my own life is incredible. This is why I am so glad that I have kept a diary since the first grade, but disappointed in myself for abandoning it in the past two years. I have been reading a book on travel writing, (just for fun), and it offered some great advice on getting past a lull in writing. Apparently, John Steinbeck wrote Exit to Eden on half a notebook: on one side he kept a diary to get his thoughts going, and then on the opposite page would write the novel once he was warmed up. Sounds like something to try.

Today I began my first day as a substitute summer school teacher. I think that could possibly win the category of worst job title EVER. I had planned on actually having my own class for the three week session, (and making a bit of money), but then I was informed that I was only needed for a week as a fill in. I have ninth graders, and they were actually well behaved, mostly. A far cry from the juniors I had last year. I have a very difficult time swallowing attitude. I'm not sure which is worse: attitude from a teenager or attitude from an adult.

I have been glued to my television set during the rest of my free time, as the Travel Channel has been running a marathon of No Reservations. If it didn't kill me that Anthony Bourdain can slaughter a live pig with a spear and sleep well at night, he might be my idol. He killed that, too.

Back in Business

Ta-da! The budget-renovated kitchen.


Double ta-da! The living room.

My house is complete! I have now been living in my newly remodelled 1950's bungalow for almost a month. During that time I have taken on the usefulness of a slug - perhaps less. I'll consider the past weeks as a needed recovery from my first real year of teaching. Sadly, in that time I have committed the cardinal sin of home remodelling - I have fallen in love with the house, my incredibly private back yard, and my neighbors - especially the guy across the street who works for Budweiser and gives me free beer. Tough to beat.

While my mortage, at $600, is less than M's one bedroom apartment rent, ($645), I am still struggling to cover all of the bills in conjunction with paying off my renovation debt. This would not be an issue if I would simply sell it. I bought it for $73,500 and my realtor would like to list it for $99,900. My plan is to go ahead with this and see what happens in the next couple of weeks.

Now, after three weeks of sitting around my house and M's apartment pool on summer vacation, (with lots of amazing books), the travel bug has bitten me, and I am eager and anxious to plan a trip somewhere off the contintental US. Facebook is a bad instigator of this, as viewing all the amazing places my friends have gone makes me insanely jealous and antsy - something it would be to my benefit to learn to quell. Unfortunatley, travelling is far out of my means at the moment. If I had to make a conjecture right now, I would say that this is going to be my last year of teaching for several reasons. While I enjoy both my students and literature and make a very decent living, being a teacher feels like trying to zip myself up into a dress that doesn't fit; I can't move around and I can't breath. The summers off would be great if I had the money to go abroad. Perhaps when both of my houses are sold this will be the case. If I do not sell this one, then M is planning to move in on August 5th, so that will ease the monthly payments.

Money troubles aside - I had an amazing 4th of July. For the first time in years I got a front row seat to fireworks on M's parents boat on Lake Ouachita. Incredible. I nursed my sunburn by drinking frozen strawberry margaritas while stretched out on the back of the boat, counting stars. Clearly, I need to start saving up for a boat of my own in the future. I'll add it to the list.



Lake Ouachita and surrounding Ouachita Natinal Forest from Hickory Nut Ridge by day.

Sweating... in mulitple meanings

I just returned from my first (and last?) kickboxing class. This was not the kickboxing class I attended in high school. That one was led by an aerobics instructor, included lots of synchronized movement and was full of women who seemed too skinny to be working out that hard. It was a great work out - don't get me wrong - but I'm not an aerobics kind of girl. This class had about 5 women and the rest were big, burly men who wore real boxing shorts. I have not been this sweaty in a VERY long time. I want to believe I can commit to going at least twice a week, but when I signed up for Sunday yoga classes, I ran out of steam after the third week. I would REALLY like to build up the determination to go regularly, as I've been feeling uncomfortable with my body and dreading wearing a two piece. Perhaps this is bad, but I feel like buying a one piece is admitting defeat - it's saying I'm resolving that working out is no longer part of my life so I'm going to take measures to adapt.

In other sweating news, I'm supposed to close on my house on Thursday. There has been lots of issues with repairs of the foundation and the electrical work, so I simply reduced my offer, and haven't heard back yet. I also discovered, to my extreme chagrin, that my bank only accepts 3% of the closing costs from the seller's party, which is going to put me at least $1000 in the hole right off the top.

In double sweating news - I'm trying to work up the courage to compete in a poetry slam in May. I have no expectations to win, but I'd love to be active in the slam rather than simply an observer/supporter. I've brought two different slam poets into my classroom and my kids have loved them. I keep telling my kids to be courageous in both their writing and their sharing, so perhaps I could try taking my own advice.