March 17, 2007 at 12:37 am (Drama, People)
I woke up this morning out of a thick and disturbing sleep. I remember having lots of dreams, but the only one I remember was this:
I was speaking to a friend of mine and felt something go crunch in my mouth. My tooth had chipped. And then, my teeth began to fall out–more teeth than I knew I had. Even now I can remember what it felt like. They weren’t rotten, the teeth were just falling out. Then, in my dream, I told myself to wake up. And in my dream, I woke up.
Then I woke up again for real.
I woke up to the BF calling from the hospital. We talked and then I got up and prepped to get to the hospital. I felt like I had been drugged. Driving to the hospital, I broke down crying, worrying what would happen if I got to the hospital too late. Too late for what? Anything. Anything.
The BF will be in the hospital probably for the weekend, hopefully not for longer. While we were sitting in the hospital world, my mom called. My godfather–one of her closest friends when I was growing up–died suddenly a few weeks ago. I haven’t been in contact with him for a while–nothing big, just haven’t kept in touch with many people that I grew up with, including neighbors and friends of family. The funeral has already happened already too.
I guess I just always assumed he would be around.
I am overwhelmed with how keenly aware I am of time.
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March 14, 2007 at 2:41 pm (Drama, People)
The BF is headed back to the hospital for a series of tests and scan to see what’s happening. A few days ago he noticed that there was a strange swelling and bruising at one end of his scar. It got bigger. So he’s going back.
Last night we decided it would be best if I stay here because if he does get admitted into the hospital, I can borrow a friend’s car to get there, whereas I don’t drive stick so I couldn’t get back from Baltimore if I went with him. Or something.
I can’t believe there are still new, weird complications resulting from this bloody surgery. I just can’t believe it. When will it stop? The BF is frustrated and scared and tired of it, and I am too. I am going to spend today getting work done (hopefully) but with my phone right next to me, waiting for phone calls.
I hate the waiting.
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December 12, 2006 at 12:07 am (Drama)
If feet freak you out (even just bone things) then do not read. But if you’re strangely fascinated with x-rays or feet or deformities, read on!
My feet are . . . Read the rest of this entry »
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November 29, 2006 at 5:59 am (Drama, Writing)
Or, a Semi-Socratic Dialogue on the Nothingness of Sid Vicious and the Everythingness of My Mother
SCENE: Outside the literature building. Damp but warmer-than-normal late November evening. Two characters: Prof and Writer Whom I Respect and Adore (PWWIRA). Me.
PWWIRA: So what do you mean that it irks you that people wanted more “you” in your piece? Most of your pieces have so much you!
ME: Because in the end it all goes back to my mother.
PWWIRA: Wait! How? This is a profile of a musician!
ME: Because my mother used to work in a record store and raised me on the Sex Pistols, the Clash, Elvis Costello, David Bowie. When I was five I looked at her and asked, “Mommy, what’s a Sex Pistol?”
PWWIRA: [Signature gasp and hand clap. Seriously, the man is known for this] Really! Why that is fascinating! So why not write it?
ME: Because it’s always about her.
PWWIRA: Are you saying every piece you write features her?
ME: In some form, yes.
PWWIRA: Even your fiction last semester? The depressed woman who never ate and the daughter who went to the SF market to find joy?
ME: [Inwardly rolling eyes and wishing for a crock of St. Benoit yogurt as he mentions this]. Of course.
PWWIRA: And tonight’s piece–she’s there too.
ME: Yup. Wormed her way in.
PWWIRA: That is truly fascinating. Just go and write it. Write her in until you cannot write her in any more.
ME: That’s a lot of writing. Especially with the onset of carpal tunnel.
PWWIRA: But you must.
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November 28, 2006 at 12:55 am (Crafty, Drama, MFA, Writing, knit, yarn)
knitting on deadline
Originally uploaded by loosegreentea.
I have to finish the Big Bad Baby Blanket by Saturday. And grade papers. And do this thing they call “work”. And deal with apartment management b.s.
I realized today, as I wrote an old professor for guidance into the big bad world of PhDs, that I’m in a crisis of faith. No, not as in “is there a God” or anything actually worth having a crisis of faith about. I’m having a massive crisis of identity: I’m having a crisis of faith in myself. Do I teach? Do I find a “real” job (ick)? Do I go get my PhD? Is it even worth continuing to write when I’m too afraid to even submit my work?
Even knitting is hard these days. My right shoulder and wrist have gone berserk and I’m in excruciating pain.
I wish I could hibernate in the winter. It would all be so much easier.
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October 16, 2006 at 6:25 pm (Drama, Writing)
In an old episode of The Simpsons, Bart dares Lisa to drink the water of an amusement park ride at Duff Gardens. Lisa then begins hallucinating and shouts out at one point, “I am the Lizard Queen!”. After this great scene, Lisa goes walking around the house wrapped in a blanket, totally green, and at one point Marge asks her a question.
“Can’t talk, comin’ down,” Lisa mutters, shivering.
That’s me right now, though I have to admit it feels much better than that. Yesterday was the first day in over two weeks that my heart wasn’t pounding like racehorses’ hooves on a track, and this was also the first weekend in a while where I conscientiously did nothing I was supposed to do–save relaxing.
I still feel pretty wiped out but I don’t feel like the world is ending anytime soon, and that’s good, right?
It also opened up lots of writing ideas for me. Read the rest of this entry »
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October 14, 2006 at 3:46 am (Drama, MFA, Writing)
So, yesterday I got a good dose of “shut-the-fuck-up”.
I took down a previous post because it turned out not to be true. Said individual is turning in work. I still don’t like said-individual’s comments, but there’s mud on my face there.
I also realized that I spent so much energy hatin’ that I forgot to spend it on anything else. Bad energy, whether your own or someone else’s, is like a vortex. It sucks you in and you implode. Read the rest of this entry »
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October 5, 2006 at 11:50 pm (Drama, Teaching)
My students’ essays are not afraid of me and have kicked my ass.
I skipped workshop tonight. Turned in my submission and told my professor, “I have to go home now.”
“Are you okay?” She asked.
“I have to go home. I need to sleep. And grade papers.”
“Good call.”
Holy incomplete clauses and comma splices, Batman! I think I’m going blind.
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October 2, 2006 at 3:17 am (Drama, Sounds, Writing)
I remember when a night out was something that you prepped for; an event where somehow the right combination of booze, drugs, sounds and people would somehow result in a cataclysmic meteor shower. Rarely did it ever achieve this legendary status, but there were nights that did.
These stories always start off with The night when . . . And somehow, I have fewer and fewer of these stories. And that’s probably good–we see from last night how wretched I feel the next day, and how I no longer have time to be an ass and go on 10-hour benders, and how I’m so much more mature and healthy these days–but I miss that rush of life.
Somehow, hanging out with veritable strangers and going to shitty clubs, I remembered how I used to not care who was DJing or how bad the crowd was or how crappy the soundsystem was. None of that mattered because I was out and I was going to own the whole damn place for as long as I was there, and somehow I would be legendary, if just for one perfect moment.
It seems so shallow but it always felt so good. Read the rest of this entry »
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October 1, 2006 at 4:29 pm (Drama, MFA)
That’s really all I can say right now. I have a stack of papers to grade, stories to finish, and feel like complete and total ass right now. Last night was the annual department party. I pre-partied, I partied, I post-partied.
I watched a first-year’s life fall apart in a dive bar (a bit, at least) as he caught his girlfriend making out with someone else.
I watched several of my classmates toe the line of drunk-and-cuddly to “wait, isn’t he engaged?”
I talked a lot of shit. I got to know one of my classmates a little better as we pointed at people around the bar and said whether we’d hypothetically sleep with them if sober, if drunk, or not at all. That was pretty fun.
Most of all I missed The Boyfriend. I wanted him there to make snarky comments with and to make out with in dark corners drunkenly (because really, sometimes that’s just good fun), and realized how much I just want things to go back to some semblance of normal life.
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