I think this may work out better for me anyway. A sense of closure on what I’ve been working on for the past 4-5 years may be beneficial to my psyche as well as to my writing. And I am currently working on a new short story that involves a situation that has been incubating in my brain for longer than the novel bits (which are just about a 1/2 year old or so.)

I sat in on a friend’s thesis defense yesterday and it wasn’t as scary as I imagined it would be. I think I might be okay afterall. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

I remember when I first started really writing stories back in 2002 for my undergrad program. It was exciting, and I didn’t feel constrained. There was a rush in the hours of focus and creation and moments of what felt like divine intervention. I’ve had some of that since I started the MFA program, but to a much lesser degree. I don’t know if it is the idea of this writing being the terminal act or the pressure of all of those voices in my head that have accumulated from workshops in the MFA program, but now I’m finding it hard to loosen up and write. It isn’t so much writer’s block. I have ideas and an amorphous shape and seedlings of characters; everything I usually need to get started. But the sentences are coming so slowly, labored, tinged with doubt. I hate writing this way. I prefer confidence and clarity in the moment. I can deal with some labored sentences, but I really enjoy when the words come freely as if from some other place, piped into my head and then down through my fingers.

So, am I just out of practice? Do I just not feel confidently enough about the work? It is a novel afterall, and I’ve never written one of those. Perhaps I’ll pretend it is a short story (a bunch of them actually). Maybe I’ll work 15-20 pages at a time and see if that gets me anywhere. I won’t call them chapters because that puts too much pressure on it as if there needs to be some sequence involved, some sort of logic that I’m not sure about.

I’ve read up on different methods for writing a novel: planning it out first or writing by the seat of your pants and organizing it later. I’m not sure which will work for me. Both seem too extreme. I’ll maybe do a little seat-of-pants writing and then stop and see if a plan emerges from there. Gah, can you feel the insecurity in those words? Who isn’t a little insecure when starting down to write on something new? I usually am. This time though...I feel it so much more. All right, I forgot this is just another short story. Damn, it is going to be hard to remind myself of that fact everytime I sit down to write.

In December I started a part-time job—the kind of part-time job that does not come home with me and turn into a full-time job. For now it is great. My side projects eat up a lot of my free time so I couldn’t handle a job that cut into that time anyway. I also get to talk to and deal with people (a bit of customer service) which I didn’t realize I had missed so much. Certain retail jobs can sure kill that enjoyment, I guess. Luckily this is one that mostly doesn’t.

My daughter is growing and walking and fabulous. When we are out and about, people comment on how well-behaved she is and how adorable and sweet. I love that other people get to experience her. She is all of those things and more. A joy in my life that I’m grateful for.

A professor and poet in my MFA program lost his twenty-year-old daughter six or so years ago when she drown while studying abroad. She was also a poet, and her father compiled poems from her 20+ notebooks of poetry that she had been writing since the age of, I think, three. Those poems have been published in a collection by the university press I’m interning at, and there was a reading last week of her work. And though it was an emotional night, it was more of a celebration than anything else of her talent and spirit. I, however, being the often super-sensitive person that I am, cried a little. Couldn’t help it. A poem was read; there was a postcard, a desire to be near her father, the awareness of distance and beatiful, beautiful language. Even now thinking about it, tears are welling up in my eyes. I usually just accept that I’m an emotional goob, and don’t worry about what people think. But a few minutes later, after dabbing my eyes with a tissue, I glanced back at the father, the poet, my professor and he was looking in my direction. I turned back to the front. And for a split second felt a little foolish being caught out crying, even though there was no judgment in his eyes whatsoever. A thought flickered… I didn’t even know her, what right do I have to cry? It was just a flutter of a thought though and I decided that it was more of a gift that her poetry and insight could touch me so much.

Later I would think about my daughter and the gaping hole that would be born should I ever lose her. And even now there’s a small voice in my head saying don’t type this, don’t share this. If you do you may jinx it; it may come true. But rationally all I really think this shows is how much I love her and how much she brings into my life. And that is worth saying.

My daughter turn one year old earlier this month. Sometimes I look at her and am just awed at how much she’s grown and developed, and it’s only been a year. Crazy stuff.

So, today’s entry is just reportage. I’ve an essay to write by Monday, so I’m saving all of my thinking for that. Though, I do give thanks for all the good things in my life (the things to remember when I’m feeling blue). I wish a happy Thanksgiving to you too (if you’re in the U.S., if not then just a regular happy day to you!).

The initial intensity of feelings and the weighty unknown made the first days seem slower, the world carefully pressing the brakes so as not to stop abruptly furthering injury to my uncle. He’s a well-loved man with many friends and a fiercely supportive family. None of his family lives in his town or even in his state anymore (actually cousins do, but not his kids or siblings), but at least two and upto six family members have been at the hospital daily. Friends send their love from the western states and even Hawaii. The also send food and make donations in his name. As I type this, I cringe a little at how clinical some of it sounds. I love my uncle. I don’t know him all that well, but I like him because he is someone you can’t help but like. He’s been up to visit us in our new city the most, bar my mom. There’s a teddy bearish quality about him, though hiding, albeit not too well, a mischievous man. I can imagine the grief and annoyance he caused his two younger sisters, my mother and aunt, as a boy. And, just as revealing, I’ve seen their devotion and love for him in their vigil at his bedside.

The doctors have not wanted to give too much hope. The brain is a tricky thing. Today, however, as he has been gradually weened out of his induced coma, there was seemingly good news about his brain activity and the expectation of him waking up as soon as they can get the medications right (i.e. stop doping him up too much). I hope it happens soon. I hope we get to welcome him back to the world.

Just how much of him will wake up is something we will find out then. The doctors have warned that, even if everything goes well, we won’t really know the full results of the trauma for a year. Recovery, medication, therapy… He’ll also have love, friendship and the strength of many whose lives he has touched over the years.

And so to take a moment to be selfish, I ask myself, what can be learned from this? Have I learned something? I imagine if this had happened to me I’d have a small close contingent of family and perhaps some friends, but not the magnitude of outpouring that my uncle has had. Have I let too many friendships fall to the wayside? Perhaps that is a fault of my character. Deep down I think sharing love and kindness is important, but often I find myself too weary to share these beyond my very close circle, and even then it is not always love and kindness I’m giving to those I love. 

So, I get an email today that puzzled me. Basically it said (paraphrasing here): If the Gov’t removes any mention of God from their money, the pledge of allegince, military endeavors, etc., then god-fearing people should protest the government “using” religious holidays to give time off.

The logic here is astounding. (Yes, I am being facetious.) Firstly, there is the first amendment:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

As for the money and military and the pledge, now that is actually showing so much respect that those not of certain God-fearing religions are being infringed upon… Though the extent isn’t much with the money… I mean it is there, but who spends time reading money? I mean buy a book.

The pledge?... Tell your kid to say “Under Daddy” instead of “Under God” and hope no one in the class says “Just like your mom”... or better yet, just don’t say “under God,” right? Say “under Allah” or “under Buddha” or say nothing at all… I know some guy sued, so maybe the pledge has already been changed, but at this point they are just some words written by someone who didn’t happen to read the first amendment or failed to understand that Christianity isn’t the only religion out there.

...The military stuff, I have no clue about this. Do you get courtmarshalled and more for not following the 10 commandments as laid down in the King James Bible? Is that really true?...if so, scary.

So basically, go ahead and protest if you must. But sheesh the very first thing they thought of when writing the Bill of Rights was religion and keeping it and gov’t away from each other. Why? Because they knew that gov’t could go terribly awry once religion started getting swirled into the mix. (As some of us have caught glimpses of in the past 5 years or so… )

There may be talk of removing “religious” references or practices in anything gov’t related, but has it happened? No. Will it happen? Doubt it. Maybe eventually, and then how much of an effect will it have on me or you or that other guy over there? None. (Perhaps some effect on the military… again not my area of expertise.) So, I don’t get the indignation. What’s the big deal? It seems like some bored guy is sitting in front of the tv watching Fox News, yelling out his window if you aren’t going to recognize my God, then I’m not going to let you enjoy my religious holiday. So there!!! Rather silly isn’t it?

She’s got a major pout going on, partially because of the tilt of her stroller and partially because her diaper was beyond full after the long drive which we would find out the hard way.

You might notice that though the style is the same the outfit is a different color (I mentioned the overflowing diaper right?). And of course her adorable smile is quite big after a fresh diaper.

It was a very nice trip. I’m very glad we went. I could go on and on but time is precious and right now sleep is also precious.

After a first year or so of happiness in the Northwest, we are seeing the cracks in the veneer, so to speak. It isn’t as bad as it was down south with all of the rude and angry people, but there is some of that here too. Of course, I am curious if the way we (hubby and I) view these things is actually a reflection of our own angst and moods. We are a bit less happy with this place and the people as we first were, so of course they all seem less friendly than before. Perspective is perspectivey that way.

My students this quarter are absolutely fabulous compared to a time before that will hopefully soon be forgotten. Although they are probably just a rather typical class. Perspective again.

I’m holding back my excitement for my thesis which is barely begun and still mostly just floating dust particles in the ether of my mind. I feel very much as if I’ll call down the mother of all jinxes if I talk about it too much. So, I’ll simply say I’m excited, but trying not to be too excited (this is a much better state of mind than what I felt a few months ago, aka dread).

Now I get to watch June flitter away and wonder where it all went… then July…

Once a month is rather pathetic for blogging, but I may remain pathetic for awhile. We’ll see.