Last night was rough, and I'm still anxious from it. Barely slept, but made it to Poetics, which Steve Orlen, a visiting poet, decided to teach today. This man is nuts - instead of taking questions, he glanced around the room and decided which students looked like they might have questions, and demanded that they ask him something. He did a reading here tonight, and kept interrupting the flow of his own poems to explain more about what he meant. It was endearing, but he was no Van Jordan, that's for sure.
Workshopped my pregnancy test story in Lori's class, which I had built up to be a disaster before I'd even passed my piece out. Everyone loved it; only two people suggested changes, and both of them were argued down by my other classmates. I'm still unhappy with it, but at least no one in the class thinks less of me for it. The entire time it was being discussed, I had my fingers and toes crossed, hoping that no one would ask, "Who's the father?" And of course, the kid next to me asked that, and luckily, I didn't have to answer because writers can't talk back. But honestly? That's a whole other fucking story that even I can't make funny. So I was glad when my classmates said it didn't matter that I didn't address that, because there's just no way. And as it was, there was a lot of laughter and a hush after I finished, and it went much better than it should have. And I have undeserved second chances at Headwaters and the UR reading. Whatever weird spirit is watching over me academically is fantastic and all, but I wish it would redirect its energies. Academics were the one solid thing I had to begin with; it's the rest of my life I'm not sure what to do with.
Next semester is going to be better. I'll have my own space, and a new start, and maybe I'll have my shit together then. Closer to, anyway. But for now, it's not even midterm, and I'm exhausted. But at least the things tiring me are all things I really love, things I've chosen in some way. So, once again, although I'm starting to feel like a parody of myself for saying it so much: I'm a lucky, lucky girl.
Now, off to watch more Top Design with Jana and Jeff. Wednesday nights are always such a necessary recovery; let's hope this one goes out easier than I'm anticipating.
Workshopped my pregnancy test story in Lori's class, which I had built up to be a disaster before I'd even passed my piece out. Everyone loved it; only two people suggested changes, and both of them were argued down by my other classmates. I'm still unhappy with it, but at least no one in the class thinks less of me for it. The entire time it was being discussed, I had my fingers and toes crossed, hoping that no one would ask, "Who's the father?" And of course, the kid next to me asked that, and luckily, I didn't have to answer because writers can't talk back. But honestly? That's a whole other fucking story that even I can't make funny. So I was glad when my classmates said it didn't matter that I didn't address that, because there's just no way. And as it was, there was a lot of laughter and a hush after I finished, and it went much better than it should have. And I have undeserved second chances at Headwaters and the UR reading. Whatever weird spirit is watching over me academically is fantastic and all, but I wish it would redirect its energies. Academics were the one solid thing I had to begin with; it's the rest of my life I'm not sure what to do with.
Next semester is going to be better. I'll have my own space, and a new start, and maybe I'll have my shit together then. Closer to, anyway. But for now, it's not even midterm, and I'm exhausted. But at least the things tiring me are all things I really love, things I've chosen in some way. So, once again, although I'm starting to feel like a parody of myself for saying it so much: I'm a lucky, lucky girl.
Now, off to watch more Top Design with Jana and Jeff. Wednesday nights are always such a necessary recovery; let's hope this one goes out easier than I'm anticipating.
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