Oh, the Urbanity

I think it only fitting that my first blog in a long time pertains to the subject of my last couple of blog entries, in which I whinged about not achieving in my poetic life. Let the record show that Issa Lewis has recently had a poem accepted to a journal, and also received a decline on a submission that asked for more work to be sent in. So, two good things! And the truth was, it was because I sat down and put in some time. Some real time. This summer has seen a dramatic resurgence in my creative life. I don't know if it's because I've had more free time (only teaching 1-2 classes over the summer gave me some days free), or what...but I'm keeping on it and hope to have a new chapbook ready to start tossing around to folks by the fall-ish.

I often catch myself worrying if I'm just too normal to be a poet...a successful one, anyway...I have a distinct lack of angst and drama in my life these days, and really not a whole lot from the past that I can call on, either. I have no addictions that anyone would find interesting, I'm happily married and householding, we have two cats and no kids, blah blah blah. Where's the strife?

But as I've been writing lately, I am realizing that strife is not what it's all about. Does having a dysfunctional childhood give you fodder for art? Surely. Is it a necessity? No. What I find infinitely more interesting now is the average human condition--the way that small fears manifest into larger ones, the way that the petty becomes significant, the way that all memories, even the good ones, are bittersweet.

That's also one of the things I love about acting on the stage. It gives me a chance to experience situations--and thereby emotions--that I wouldn't necessarily get to on my own. Call me crazy, but I love acting in roles where I'm terrified, heartbroken, ecstatic--the extremes that most of us rarely experience. Honestly, that's why I prefer acting in dramas over comedies. Comedies are fun, and it's fun to do them, but my real love of acting stems from the meat of the human condition. As I've written before, "they come to see you bleed." And so it is.

School starts in a few weeks. I have over 100 students (although, at last check, they were going to split up one of my courses into two sections, because it was already overloaded and there are more bound to sign up). It's going to be an interesting fall.

For those of you who are wondering what the title of the post is about, I should catch you up--we bought a new car recently to replace my old Ford Focus. I loved my Focus, but it was just getting to the point where the repairs were going to be costing us more than the thing was worth. I put a heck of a lot of miles on the thing in seven years, let me tell you! So anyway, my new car is a 2009 Pontiac Vibe in a color that is known by the manufacturer as "blue steel metallic." I have asked others for their opinion on the color, and our best estimate is to call it "deep periwinkle." It's somewhere between a blue and a purple and a gray.

But these days, when I tell people what's new with me, I reach for the immediate, big stuff--new house, new car....and it makes me feel so bourgeois. So incredibly spend-y! I promise, we're not. The big purchases we've made recently have all been more towards needs than wants. I mean, we could have persisted in rental life and I could have probably driven the Focus into the ground, but why? It saves money and stress in the long run to just take the plunge.

And this is just a homeowner's FYI: if you buy a house, and you get a home warranty--DON'T CALL THEM. Unless your home explodes, it's not worth it.