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13 years

I have never had a birthday bother me much---I'm the type to be like, hey, cool, I'm still alive...that's great. This year, for some reason, I can't get it out of my head that there's only 13 more years until I'm 50. I don't know why it's such a big deal to me this year but that's what I keep thinking about. Maybe because I remember my mom at 37 (I was 17) and she seemed so freaking old and out of touch to me then. She wasn't, really -- it was a teenager's perspective -- but now I have a 17-year old daughter who quite often looks at me like I'm just slightly out of touch with reality and oh so definitely not "cool."

I used to take consolation in the fact that Dave is older than me. He will be 45 this year. Talk about old! :) But you know, that's the frustrating thing -- men seem to be better older and women seem to do a slow deterioration process.

Getting older is still better than the alternative...I guess I'll quit bitching and make the best of it...but I sure agree with the old man from It's A Wonderful Life: Youth IS wasted on the young!

Mission Accomplished

I am so relieved that the whole reading poetry experience is over, but I have to admit that not only did I thoroughly enjoy making a complete fool of myself last night but I also woke up this morning feeling a huge sense of accomplishment. For those of you who have your own bands or do poetry readings or other public speaking on a regular basis, you probably cannot begin to understand (or remember) the level of intimidation that can occur in a situtation like this if you are a novice.

Two things: thanks for all of the constructive help throughout the semester in improving my poetry. I feel like I was very lucky to be with the group of extraordinarily talented, funny, and amusing souls who shared 305 this semester.

Good luck in all of your endeavors. I've decided to keep this blog going, though the contents may shift more to creative endeavors in general and not just poetic ones. Feel free to keep in touch.

Jodi--thanks again for a great semester.

As We Approach THE END

So I am waking up in the middle of the night wondering just how nightmarish reading my poetry in a coffee shop is going to be, and hoping that it is something I enjoy so much that it inspires me to write GOOD poetry and do it again. I wish I was taking poetry again next semester, but I'll have to live vicariously through my husband, the newly-published poet whose poem appears in the 2007 edition of In Other Words. Yeah! Someday I hope to be the wife of the poet laureate...and I don't mean that in a sexist, I-want-to-remain-in-shadows-and-support-my-man Thayne version of myself. I mean Dave has the serious minded-ness to fill the role in a deserving manner. Everything I do is just a little less than completely serious...and sometimes a little less than completely sane. But I do love life...unfortunately, I have discovered that happy-go-lucky touchy feely is the downfall of a poet who needs to be able to tap into some raw-er emotions like depression, despair, moroseness, anger...and I've spent a great deal of my life (not that this is a good thing) learning how to pretend those emotions don't exist. BUT, my solution is clear. They've legalized absinthe, and it sounds not only delicious and fun but also mind altering. When you can have mind altering AND legal, well that's a combination I can live with. I can't wait to see whether or not it does for me what it inspired in Picasso and so many others. Either way, it's the weekend and since I have a lot of work to do, it's a good idea to escape from reality.

Inspiration

I know I tend to be one of those touchy-feely emotional people with a bunch of gooey uncomfortable feelings...so it shouldn't be too surprising that I'm the one writing to say WOW!! I am so totally impressed with the imaginations and creativity of the class in terms of the "pageless" poem assignment. I felt like everyone's project seemed to really represent the person/poet so well and it was a lot of fun for me. This class has been really great for me -- I've not only had the pleasure of reading some really fine poetry, but our differing perspectives and comfort level during discussions are great brain food.

I have been exploring my goals as a poet and as a writer, especially as we come closer to having to turn in our chapbook projects. I have a definite sense of who I am & what I want, even though those things are very fluid and change quite a bit...but I have noticed that in both my prose writing and my poetry, I've got "stuff" rolling around inside me that has to get out. This is a horrible metaphor, but it's kind of like when you're carving a jack o'lantern and you want to have this great image and the ability to light it from the inside, but first you have to scrape out all of the slimy guts and seeds. It's sort of a purge, I guess, that I've been in the middle of for a while...and possibly will be forever. I'm 36 -- nearly 37 -- so there's a lot there. I wonder, though, if that isn't what makes the writing have more depth; while I haven't mastered the ability to completely communicate it the way I want to, the stuff that I have rolling in my head isn't fluffy white clouds floating through a rainbow world, either.

I have also made the distinction between writing for money and writing for soul purging. While the two may eventually coincide, the good stuff isn't the stuff I'm worried about selling. I sell writing/editing/translation to pay for the other stuff I do. I am just lucky in that I love playing with words enough that even the "work" is fun and tends to open new avenues to experiences that help with the good stuff. Most recently, I've been writing passages for a new English book for ESL students. I've been working with a professor at UNM who contracted me to help, and it's been really invigorating. The passages I've had to write -- arbitrary topics like seahorses, W Celphei A, rap music -- have forced me to really focus on a topic and be consistent and clear in my writing. The other contract I've been doing is interview writing -- a business journal and a couple of music mags. Interviewing is an amazing skill to develop, but the real exercise comes in taking the interview and turning it into a brilliant story. I'm not brilliant yet, but the exercise is good.

Thanks to Cheryl Hindrichs and English 275 and Howards End, the idea of connection is way more powerful to me than ever before. In light of our discussion of Alice Notley and detachment and the ability to connect, the other thing that has been pretty heavily on my mind these days is the value of friendship. I have a lot of acquaintances and friends and people I socialize with or see occasionally or have a comfortable relationship with, but there are certain people who seem to end up being more meaningful than most. I've been trying to analyze what it is that makes these particular people so important. It's not physical, because two of them I've never met in person; it's not location because one is across the country, one is in Algeria, the others scattered around the country. It's not even length of time, because sometimes people come into my life and aren't there for long but have a major impact. It's about connection, I guess. I just think it's really important never to underestimate the value of friendship and what it can mean to you.