Coming Clean
Posted on | June 16, 2009 | No Comments
I erased the entry I wrote yesterday because yesterday was not one of my better days. I recognize the swing from mania to depression. Love how it only takes a few hours to get out of the hole. I guess there is something to be said about rapid cycling. That being said, I did some things yesterday I’m not proud of and dug myself into a grave of failure.
Today I woke and have started to dig myself out. I had much of my teaching module done for school and in a fit of despair, deleted the entire thing. I’m back to building it from scratch again, trying to piece together the info I still have sitting on the desktop. Crazy people take a lot longer to do things, I guess. At least I know where all the information is.
I think I have settled with the sections I want to read for my thesis defense. Then again, I will probably change my mind. But I am trying to ignore the fact that D won’t be there. That honestly makes me get all teary eyed every time I think about it. I am starting to get excited about school, but I am feeling overwhelmed. What if I bomb my teaching module? That is the one that has me worried.
And I haven’t even thought about pitching my novel yet. I can’t wrap my head around that. One thing at a time…. just one thing.
Spoonful of Sugar, Spoonful of Acid
Posted on | June 5, 2009 | 3 Comments
The pendulum swings both ways. I get the gift of a couple of interviews, I end up in 2nd place for both jobs. I have all this time to write, but I spend it worrying about our family.
Right now, I would like to kick life in its everloving ass and tell it to be a little more fair. David will not be flying out to my graduation. We’ve both been unemployed since January and our finances just can’t take it. I pouted, felt sorry for myself, worried that I would be embarrassed at graduation because none of my family would be there to holler for me. And I will admit that I cried a bit.
Then we got the call today that his father is dying. He has had several bouts with melanoma, but the cancer spread to his brain. He was given 2-4 months to live. Suddenly my selfishness for whining about David come to my graduation are eclipsed by the fact that I think he needs to say goodbye to his father. He’s ambivelent. He wants to go out to support his brothers (he has 5) and his half sisters (he has 4), but we are not financially in a place where that can be done. Now, David had a great interview today and we are both very hopeful, but there’s no guarantee that he can fly out there. It’s no question that he should go out, it’s just whether the economy will allow us the cash to get there. I will bleed the rock dry to try to get him out there. We are also dealing with all these extra expenses for my graduation. Yes the car and plane flight are paid for, but I do need to eat, and the fucking gown is 75 dollars. I’m tempted not to walk at all to save that money. It’s just the suck right now.
I, as David’s wife, think he should fly out to say goodbye. He’s not close to his father. They have had a distant relationship their entire life due to a separation before David was born. But his father has tried in recent years. We are very different when it comes to loss and mourning, but I do think David would feel better about things if he could just spend some time with his family at this point. Now, I’m hoping the next few weeks will include some rockin’ good luck and love from the Fates. Perhaps all this worrying will be for naught and we can scrounge up the cash to get him to see his Dad.
That’s not to say that it’s all terrible. It isn’t. David and I are working very well together to keep each other out of the pits of despair. We make little plans to keep from going insane. And honestly we’ve grown closer these 6 months without work. I guess that is what happens when adversity hits your family - you sink or swim. My sister has been invaluable through the whole process - both as a shoulder on which to lean in my weak moments and the one who saved our asses to pay rent this month. If I have to pay her back 5 bucks at a time, I will. You can’t take that kind of kindness for granted.
So, all in all this is really a post about the bad and good in things. I’ve had a few dark days recently. But I realized that getting up every morning, I have a choice - I can mourn the loss of my former life with a steady income or I can celebrate the time I’ve had to grow closer to my husband and write. My only wish right now is that I can find the money to get David out to see his Dad before he passes. Honestly, everything else is a luxury.
The Nature of Sound
Posted on | May 27, 2009 | 1 Comment
I listened to the thundering of elephant feet on the stairs, and smiled. My nephew raced to the 1st floor bathroom and slammed the door. The house teemed with noise - the squealing laughter of a joyful 4 year old or the conspiring murmurs of a pair of boys locked in epic battle, playing some game on my PS2. My sister doesn’t know the meaning of quiet, so she fills my home with loud mother-calls for her children. But it made sense this weekend. We are a house full of quiet. David and I laugh vigorously, but we don’t yell, we don’t thunder, we just don’t make a lot of noise. This weekend I was proud to host my sister and my brother-in-law and their three kids in our house. My house has plenty of room for all of us —-yes all of us. For the first time since I moved out as a teenager, I had room for the big, joyful gathering. There were eight people in the house (our friend Amandapants joined us for dinner), plus three dogs, and two cats. Not a lot of people for a 4 bedroom house, but it felt full. Like your stomach after Thanksgiving dinner….it satisfied
We grilled in the back yard - asparagus by the pound and veggie sausages. She made chicken for everyone in my stove. We danced around the kitchen, nearly bumping elbows, laughing more than one should. I actually have a grown-up table and a kids table now. Who knew I would flex the edges of my life to include children? Granted, they are not my own, but I’ve made space for them and their noise. I’m proud of that.
And when they left, I felt the silence of this big house for the first time. It fit like a sweater four sizes too big. I’ve made my life in the quiet of our house. We laugh loudly, we watch movies at decibels that would make one’s ears bleed, and if you’ve ever heard a beagle bay, you know that it’s not all quiet. I missed my family when they left. I missed my BIL and the bright way he smiles when my niece gives him a hug. I miss my younger nephews incessant questions and constant ramblings (he is much like my sister at that age, never quiet, talking even when no one listens). I miss my older nephews uncomfortable stance in the world, at fourteen, on the edge of childhood and adulthood, with a timid foot in both. I miss my niece, who has discovered presumptuous questions but still loves to play on her own. And I miss my sister, who beyond all other in my life (except my husband) understands that family is what you make of it. The differences exist, but our love for each other has gone beyond the normal sisterly bond. We are the best of friends.
In the coming months I shall swallow the sounds of my family. This is the last summer they will live close by for the military is moving them somewhere far away. Honestly, anything beyond the NW part of the country is far for us. The visits will become infrequent. I will end up remarking how the kids have grown in the spans of time between visits. I will feel my age as the loud, boisterous love of being young fades into the sullen contemplation of the teenage years. I will struggle a little with that last visit which will probably be on my 33rd birthday and I will have to grow used to a house whose silence fits uncomfortably around the memories I cherish.
I’m alive
Posted on | May 8, 2009 | No Comments
Just busy doing what I do most of these days - worry and twitter. I should sit down and discuss my daily forays into the world of the working class, but I can’t. Not one fucking nibble on my resume. This is doubly worrying because I leave for school in less than two months, and while I was smart enough to save for tuition (which is out of pocket during the last term) and my flight, I neglected to remember to save for the hotel and the rental car.
But Erica, you can catch a ride with somone else, you say.
Yes, I could. This is my last term, and we are trying to get David out to watch me walk, and I would want to be able to take us back to the airport together. I want that experience of traveling with him again. We haven’t done it in years because school necessitated that I fly twice a year. It’s almost over. I don’t really know how to feel about it.
I submitted my manuscript, after additional issues with the time. I’m hoping it is edited to everyone’s satisfaction. It felt like, at least to me, that the first half was edited well. The last 100 pages left much to be desired, I think. The only comfort right now is that I can’t do anything about it. It’s been submitted and my mentors will make their judgements. If I have to make edits, I will.
David and I saw Star Trek last night. I thought it was brilliant. The pacing was intense, the tone both comical and serious, and the actors just blew my socks off. If you can, I think that you should go and see it. I would say more, but I know some of my readers will go and see it this weekend. I hate spoilers and I wouldn’t do that to you.
But now, I have things to do, so here’s a picture of bliss.
Saturday @ Stumptown
Posted on | April 18, 2009 | No Comments
David and I headed to Stumptown Comics Fest today. We biked, like good little Portlanders. Actually I’m getting a lot more comfy on my bike these days. I rode up to the NW yesterday (story to follow later). We knew that there would be NO parking at the Doubletree where Stumptown was held so we went by bike. There was also little bike parking, and that is when improvising comes in handy.
In case you were curious, my bike is the top one, with the pretty yellow handlebars. David’s bike has the stickers.
The festival was small, but we didn’t go to any of the events. Instead my stomach requested an audience with lunch, so we headed home after about an hour and a half. Many of the artists and comics people were super nice. We bought a few things. I got suckered into getting a graphic novel with this adorable goth girl, told my chest tat was nice, and REALLY wanted to buy this purse that was 90 bucks (I didn’t). Next year I think David is going to participate in the portfolio review, which is a fantastic feature of the Fest. I am going get more mentally prepared and actually attend the events. But it was good to dip my toe in those waters….waters that are threatening to suck me into the deep end of indie comic geekdom again.
Can anyone suggest a 12 step program for comic cuteness? Seriously, I think I have a problem.
A funny for your day.
Posted on | April 15, 2009 | No Comments
Seriously, I almost peed my pants when I read this. David and I are headed to the Stumptown Comics Fest this weekend (we are totally biking there). I can’t wait. But meanwhile, in Ericaland, I have a novel to finish editing. Yeah, it’s totally due today.
No you don’t have to tell me what an awesome procrastinator I am. I know.
Capped
Posted on | April 12, 2009 | No Comments
I broke my front tooth when I was a kid. It was capped with something that reminded me of a corner of chicklet gum. Granted, this dental work was performed in the 80’s. They didn’t have all those fancy polymers and natural tooth (see: stained from years of coffee, cigarettes, and poor brushing) coloring. I lasted for about 10 years.
I lost the cap on my tooth when I was 19. After an afternoon of excessive pot smoking, I did what all stoners did in the 90’s - I went to 7-11 for a Slurpie. Now, I have a deep-seeded weakness for mint candies. Mint chocolate chip ice cream is my favorite, and I loved Christmas just as much for the candy canes as I did for the presents. But I am a connoisseur of mint, and when I bit into an inferior starmint at that 7-11, I spit it out immediatly. It felt sticky in my mouth, too sticky.
It took a few moments for my bong-hazed brain to realize that I’d lost part of my front tooth. Back then, I was very fond of overalls and wearing braids. I had moved from NC to Miami a year earlier, and worked very hard to lose my Southern accent. With my overalls, braids and broken front tooth, I felt like some hillbilly reject.
I didn’t smile or laugh without my hand in front of my mouth for weeks.
Fast forward to this week, and I found out that I have a cavity in that broken tooth. So I got the cavity fixed and now my smile is whole. It feels strange to have a tooth there now, but it looks good.
Dental Drama
Posted on | April 9, 2009 | No Comments
While I was enthused to get my tooth fixed a few months ago, my continuing visits to the dentist are draining our wallet. I have another appointment today. I don’t know which teeth they are going to fix (I have three cavities) but I would like to get a job so I can actually afford to have this done.
My former stepmother took a few digs at my sister after finding her old blog. I have to say, it’s all kinds of bullshit. My sister said things there that were not flattering to the former stepmother, but honestly her behavior warranted it. And the last time I checked, if it’s your blog you can say what you want. One of her sons is in Afghanistan right now, and she sent him an e-mail (along with all her other kids and my sister) with a sarcastic apology for being a bad mother. Thing is, did I mention her son is overseas right now? You know, like fighting a war. People should really get over themselves.
So I plugged my iPhone into my computer to charge yesterday and got pissed last night when it wasn’t holding the charge. I get up this morning and realize the cable wasn’t connected to the computer.
I gotz smartz.
Hello, my name is Erica
Posted on | April 8, 2009 | No Comments
Yes, I know I’ve written only several times in the past month. Part of this is due to the lack of anything really substantive to talk about. Who wants to hear me whine about not having a full time job? Yeah, I didn’t think so.
What I can tell you in positive land, is that Spring has arrive in Portland. I have a massive cherry tree in my backyard with beautiful pink blossoms. It really is a sight to behold. And I had to mow for the first time since we moved. We left our old gas-powered mower at the house on 33rd, but brought my push mower. We have a good sized yard so it took me an hour or so. It looks great, and I smelled like fresh cut grass and sweat. That’s what Spring is all about. I have yet to tackle the mass of blackberry brambles in the area near the potting shed. Seriously, how do I get rid of those things without killing everything else? I guess time will tell.
But I am plagued by dandelions. Bastards.
I did cut my hair off again. It’s a cute, kind of deconstructed cut that highlights my curls while taking the length off the back of my neck. She took almost 2 hours to cut it, paying attention to how the curls formed and where the bulk was. I love love love this cut. I like my hair long, but it almost felt too “mother earth” or old ladyish. This way I can be all spikey and sassy and fun. Yes, I just wrote a whole paragraph about my hair. There’s some girly left in me.
I went to Tacoma last week to help out my sister. Although she’s still in her 20’s, she developed a hernia. My mother also flew up from Colorado because the day before the surgery was her birthday and my nephew was home all week for Spring Break. There was also my niece at home who is 4, and too young for school just yet. The surgery went well. I have a lovely picture of my sister post-op, stoned out of her gourd. And all was well until a phonecall from my uncle.
Let me walk around the issue to remind people that when I don’t get sleep, I’m very reactionary and illogical. I also do not get along particularly well with this uncle. He’s only 10 years older than me so there is tension from his childhood where he blamed me for my mother leaving him. He’s also the one who has had the most problems in our family with substance abuse and mental illness. But I digress. He just says shit sometimes. So he called my sister’s phone, wanting to make sure she was okay but my BIL answered. My BIL and uncle have never met. The uncle goes on this diatribe about how my sister is his favorite and how he doesn’t particularly care for me because we are too similar or some such bullshit. My mother walked in the door about 10 minutes later from a day of shopping and I called her brother and asshole. Fight ensues. 10 minutes later I’m on I5 heading south, back to Portland and to home. I haven’t spoken to my mother since. What I do realize is that when I am denied sleep, either because the kids are up early, or my mother is walking around the house talking on the phone and letting the back door slam, or because I was getting up to make sure my sister was getting her meds or just freaking alive, things can go wrong. But after talking to David about the whole thing, I don’t regret ending the trip early.
I’m used to telling people that my mother and I are close. It falls off my tongue as easily as my name. And we are close, at a distance. Proximity is not good for the two of us. I don’t think she’s the least bit interested in what I do as a writer, which is fine, I guess. I try to keep up with her busy social and political life. I listen when she talks about the issues with town and her newest projects. But when I talk about my novel, or David’s art projects, her eyes kind of glaze over. For the first time in my life I came to understand how unimportant my writing is to her, and for some reason, that was a physical blow. It feels like she doesn’t really listen to me. So my leaving Tacoma was spurred by the argument, but it was easier to leave for other reasons. Beyond political leanings, we have little in common. And there are some deeper revelations I’ve come to, but this is a public blog and I think that’s enough. Suffice to say, I will graduate in June, and the people who understand what a struggle this has been for me will be proud. My mother will probably also be proud, but because I completed my Master’s, not because I completed my first novel.
On lighter notes, I love Avatar the Last Airbender. We rented the DVDs from Nextflix years ago but kept getting scratched disks. I eventually gave up. But iTunes had the entire first season available, so I downloaded it.
Then the tantrum ensued.
It looked awful. Every time the characters moved there seemed to be artifacting, turning solid lines into some fuzzy mess. I wanted to be okay with it. I do love the series, but not enough to watch it like that. After spending 2 days trying to find the e-mail to contact them, I finally dug up the information. Now, I know Apple wants people to figure out how to do things on their own, but jesushfuckingchrist, make it a little easier to contact customer service please. But once the issue was e-mailed, they refunded my money immediately. We are also using Netflix again, because renting movies from them is much cheaper, and I get to rent entire shows like Weeds and Mad Men. Plus it streams through the Xbox. We watched 88 Minutes last night, and the quality of the stream was great. The movie sucked though.
Our house on 33rd officially belongs to the bank now. We left our Weber grill in the garage and kept meaning to go back and get it. David noticed, while riding by on his bike, the locks had been changed on the garage. On top of that, there are notices on all the windows that the city will convict for trespassing. The house looks like shit, really. The broken tiles on the porch are stacked up (a tripping hazard) and the windows are all foggy and dusty. I almost feel bad for our former landlady - she’s taking a loss on the place, but she really did fuck us by not paying her mortgage. Moral of the story - I don’t feel THAT bad.
The progress on the novel is going well. I still feel like I have too many things to do and not enough time. That’s how life is though, isn’t it? Speaking of my novel…….
Tags: Connections > Contemplation > family > Links > novel > photos > school > writing
Slacker
Posted on | March 29, 2009 | No Comments
I swear, I’ve started 100 posts since my last one, but I get interrupted and stop. There are a number of drafts waiting for me to finish them. But I will just take this moment to admit that I’m totally slacking on the blogging thing.
And I would continue this post, but I have a house to clean. Ain’t life fun?
Only my left ass cheek is Irish
Posted on | March 17, 2009 | No Comments
That would have my grandmother rolling over in her grave. We pride ourselves on our Irish heritage, but what in the hell do I really know about this holiday? Was it manufactured just to have a bunch of white folk go get rowdy and drink beer? Isn’t everyone Irish anyway?
I usually research things like this so I can forget about them two days later and bitch about them next year. I don’t care about St. Patty’s day. It’s like Cinco de Mayo, when everyone suddenly loves Mexicans and Mexican culture and wants to drink with them.
Me? I’m half mexican, half irish mutt and I don’t wait for occasions to drink. I just drink when it feel like it.
And lately I’ve felt pretty crappy post-drinking. I’ve been trying to stick to tea at night. I like the act of drinking (just as I like the act of smoking) in the evening. Water doesn’t cut the mustard, but tea seems to work for me.
So here’s to manufactured holidays, where we wear green, dye rivers, get smashed, and we don’t even know why!
How American.
Nuggets
Posted on | March 15, 2009 | 2 Comments
- I finally saw Wall-E. I hated it, so I won’t discuss it.
- I have noticed I spend a million more hours in my office now that we don’t have cable. And when I edit, I like to listen to things, like movies I know by heart or shitty TV shows care of Hulu. So, in the last 2 weeks I think I’ve listened to “Singing in the Rain” and “Gigi” at least 4 times each.
- When David and I went to the coast, I found a walking stick. It was a bleached, smooth, hip high stick I used to navigate the dunes at Cannon Beach. I left it in the fucking hotel room. On top of that, my pictures did not come out very good this time. I had the camera on auto because I was busy playing with the dog. Lazy, I know. So many of the photos need some correction, but I will post them when I’m through.
- My beagles love the beach. Pip loves chasing gulls, and just running to run. He kind of runs around us in a big circle, head back, ears bouncing. Puck, on the other hand, was still an asshole and tried to sniff out other dogs and didn’t listen to us when we told him to return. He spent much of that time on the leash, the little shit.
- David’s birthday went off without a hitch. Okay, one hitch. I decided to cross this “stream.” It was ocean water running from an inlet, and about knee deep. But across the stream was a big swath of land that got closer to some neat rock formations and had a clearer view of the lighthouse. My dogs aren’t water dogs, but Pip, seeing that I had crossed, dove into the water without thinking. Until he realized he was about to go under. He didn’t swim. He just stood in the middle of this running water, looking at me like I was nuts. We tried to get the dogs across, but then Puck lost his collar. And when we got back to the hotel, I realized I’d only packed 1 pair of jeans. Dinner was room service.
- I am now working with a press. I am going to name the press on the more professional blog (my whole name, not hard to figure out). This will be more of a place where I bitch about things. But I won’t call authors out here. While I may have difficulties and opinions, I am still going to conduct myself in a professional manner.
- And now, I am going to watch Battlestar with the hubbie.
David’s Birthday at Cannon Beach
Posted on | March 13, 2009 | No Comments
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- Very very tired dogs
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- The wine goes well with the landscape
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- Left side...and I was obsessed with it.
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- No so much a stream as an inlet for the ocean and I crossed it.
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- Blues, greens...nature
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- in a ring of weathered wood
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- David and the dogs walking back
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- The forest runs up to the cliff
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- I stayed behind due to an unfortunate incident with seawater and my only pair of clean pants
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- The tide went out, and these guys live on and near Haystack Rock
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- What happened to the other two?
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- The side of Haystack Rock, and those bitches were fearless.
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- My camera died right after this
Happy Birthday David
Posted on | March 12, 2009 | No Comments
I love you.
Birthdays
Posted on | March 9, 2009 | 1 Comment
I have two birthdays to attend this week. My hubbie’s birthday is on Thursday and my sister’s is on Saturday. I have very special plans for David’s birthday. I will spill the beans later. And we are going up to Tacoma for Alexis’s. It’s going to be a good week.
Oh and I am finishing up a project that may get me working for a small press. The details will follow, but that is what I am going to work on today since my own edits for my novel have stalled again. Actually, they are mostly done, but I am trying to clean up my language which takes up so much damn time!
Now, on to coffee.
A good day…
Posted on | March 5, 2009 | 1 Comment
is….
- finding that perfect gift that gave me the belly laughs. I can’t wait to give it to her
- realizing that David and I share a brain sometimes, echoing each other’s thoughts. It feels good to be understood.
- getting rid of all the highlighted words in my current section of the novel. The next section’s work begins now.
- turning off the internet so I can focus on my writing.
- walking the beagles and finding out that Pip doesn’t actually know how to stop when he’s going Mach 10.
- socks.
- having my cooking complimented. I put my heart and soul into my food, and it’s good to be appreciated.
- laughing.
- “elegant” hair.
- finding the space in which to forgive myself.
- having my brother in law return from overseas, unscathed.
I’m proud of you
Posted on | March 3, 2009 | No Comments
You know who you are and why. I just wanted the world to know.
When I had things to do
Posted on | March 1, 2009 | No Comments
Not that I don’t have things to do right now, I do. I could rework my resume for my Monday morning onslaught of the job boards. Or I could clean the bathroom. I should finish these edits, but I think my eyes may bleed soon, and not in that cute, horror-movie kind of way (yes, bleeding eyes can be cute, I guess. Depends on your sense of humor).
My date on Friday with the unemployment office and their class to reintroduce us to their website went well, all things considering. It was interesting to see the different kind of people. From the scars and permanent dirt under their fingernails, I recognized a few construction people. One guy wore a shirt emblazoned with an electrical company’s logo. I wondered if he had worked there, or if he bought the shirt second hand. Then there were a few older ladies. I imagined that they were the rock-star admins that had been with a company since its inception, and decades later, had to be let go. A few hipster kids, with their skinny jeans and bored attitudes arrived late. But more than anything, I realized that the faces before me mirrored my own worry. The class facilitator informed us that we were not alone. The reality of this wave of unemployment is that we are going to be amond many, both the employed and the unemployed who are scouring the job boards and want ads for our next job. Many are underemployed, and I feel like that’s worse. How demoralizing would it be to get up every morning knowing that you are going to a job that won’t pay the bills? I makes me ill.
But I may have a very groovy opportunity on the horizon, news on that later.
Meanwhile, I spent some quality time with my friend Chris and her hubby at Widmer. She not working, by choice, and loving it. We had a lot of laughs, a great time. She doesn’t want me to get a job until after after summer so that we can spend time “getting drunk at the river.” I don’t think I would get much done in terms of my writing, but it is a tempting offer.
Now that Sunday is almost complete, I will punctuate my weekend by cleaning the litter box. I am such a fucking rock star.
Emotional Hangover
Posted on | February 27, 2009 | No Comments
I’ve been pretty diligent about working on my novel. There are a lot of changes to be made in this middle section, but I’m quite pleased with my progress. That being said, is any novel truly perfect?
Ginny visited our fair city and left on Thursday. I didn’t get to spend as much time with her as I would have liked. Editing got in the way. So did a couple hangovers. For the record - it’s not good to have a pony keg if your glass keeps getting full and Dopplebach is my new favorite beer (BTW, it’s the seasonal ale at the Radio Room). More than anything, I tried to pull longer laughs from moments filled with booze.
I really should stop drinking.
Ginny took a brave step coming out here. It’s inspired me to stop fearing being looked at like an novice in my hunt for a job involving writing. With the help of a dear friend, I may get into some editing for a proper company. No, it’s probably no one you have heard of, but I will market the shit out of them if I am working for/with them. The first challenge is rewriting my resume to focus on my skills, not my employment history. I love the written word. I don’t care if I have to write sonnets on the street corner, I will continue to work with writing.
By the way, I fucking despise sonnets.
They give me stomach aches.
Brave steps have been taken by those around me. People are losing their jobs, changing their lives, and starting over in world that was different just 3 years ago. And in different, I mean it’s harder to make your way when there aren’t any jobs and the world economy is taking a dump. David has been battling through feelings of doubt with his career and school choices. I have done the same. There are some out there who are contemplating crazy journeys of self discovery. But I think if we have a little faith in ourselves we can navigate the complex paths laid out for us, or we have to take comfort in the progress made by cutting new roads out of a forest of impossibility.
Regardless, I feel a little emotional right now, so I am going to go have a cup of coffee and get this resume off my desk.
Taking Stock
Posted on | February 23, 2009 | No Comments
Ginny, a friend from Florida, is visiting this week. Actually, she’s on the train to Seattle at the moment, but I have been able to steal a few minutes here and there with her. She’s staying with Amandapants, and it’s been a blast. Having her here made me really take stock of what’s going on in my life. That old phrase - the more things change….well it struck me when we were talking about how the years have played out for us. Graduating in ‘07, I think we were all a little naive as to what was waiting for us out in the world. Rollins College is a spectacular place, filled with amazing professors, lovely landscapes and really neat wild cats (they have swirly fur). But it’s a little like a commune. The reality is, outside of Rollins, no one cares how hard we busted our asses in Dr. Law’s Grammar class, or how much we learned from Leslie Boles in her Renaissance Art classes. You don’t know how funny Dr. Seay was, nor how scary Dr. Levitz could be (we got along famously, but his reputation intimidated). No one cares because they weren’t with us when the hurricanes hit, tearing down some of the stately oaks at the front entrance. They didn’t watch the renovation of the art building, or watch those trees move from the back of campus to the front, snarling traffic for days. Those moments are ours, mine. They cannot be replicated.
While talking with Ginny, I realized I could never go home again.
Home is here in Portland, but the intensity of those experiences cannot be duplicated. I’m more isolated here. I don’t have school as a jumping off point. I can’t seem to keep a job with people who share my ideas (although I have met some really amazing people). But I can keep trying.
I am so far removed from who I was the day I graduated. But a huge part of that woman - sweaty, nervous, slightly befuddled that she’d actually made it, is still in me. So I don’t have that anchor of school to root me into place, giving me an easy identity. I must make my own. That’s the harder part. Right now, without a job, I have to define who I am. No matter how much I write, the idea of calling myself an “author” is terrifying. I am only slightly comfortable calling myself a writer. But that’s what I’m doing right now - writing and editing.
This post has become a little meandering in its meaning, but I guess what I really mean is - I’m very glad Ginny and Amanda and I have been able to hang out. I’m glad I experienced a Masskrug, and a housewarming party. I’m thrilled at the thought of one more afternoon talking about our lives, but right now, with Ginny on the train to Seattle, and me with a dark office, and the uneven cadence of falling rain - I must be a writer, because if I take stock, that’s really what I have been all along.
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- @wdprescott You are awesome! :) Wish we could have hung out more, but there is always next summer when I can go as an alumni!! :)
- @sbossinger working as a Project coordinator for an international enviornmental engineering firm! I'm really excited! Keep fingers crossed!
- La1
- @misericorde I did fly united :( why do he fates hate us so much?
- @RenegadeScribe everythings still up in the air. If I get this job on Monday we may not come at all - so it's up to the fates at this point
- @troilee good to know. :)
- @troilee thank you!!! I'm off to the library and bookstore :)
- Does anyone know a few good books on writing query letters and a novel synopsis? I need all the help I can get!
- My BBQ watchers. http://yfrog.com/3o6olj
- I think u just got a job. More news to follow.
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