Anguish as a Second Language

I came across the title of this week's blog from a website that I found when I was cruising around looking for peer revision strategies to use in class. It really tickled me, so I thought I'd share it. It wouldn't let me really investigate the website without having a login, so I couldn't see more of what they were talking about, but again, I just loved it.

It also made me think about the way I've been living my life lately. The stress level has been more than a little bit elevated, on multiple levels. And yes, I've been whining about it. I think one could safely say that anguish has been a second language for me over the years. I didn't realize until recently that I didn't like that about myself. That's not to say that it isn't theraputic in small amounts (clinging to Ryan when I don't feel good physically, for example....it's soothing to be held and comforted), and likewise I don't want to not honor my own feelings--I don't want to tell myself that feeling any given way is BAD, in itself. But perhaps it's not the most constructive choice, particularly when it becomes prolonged.

I do appreciate the kind and constructive responses I got to my last post, when I was whinging about my creative life feeling stalled. I still feel somewhat stalled, but I'm being kind to myself about it now. Honestly, this just may not be the best time to devote hours to writing. I have a whole household to purge of unneeded stuff, to pack up, and to move to a new town; then to unpack it, after decorating the new place. And it needs to happen in the span of a couple of weeks. That's just a priority right now. No getting around it.

I like what Chad said about it boiling down to putting in your time at the computer (or wherever you choose to write), creating and revising. I think it's true. I have to make space for that in my life, once the move is over and we're relatively settled. It has to become a priority, right along with my physical health, if I want to be successful at it. I know I have it in me. I just have to do it.

But I also do, as I said, have to be kind to myself and know when I'm approaching overload. I am right now. It will all be worth it, but it's overload nonetheless.

Blocked at Every Turn

I know I said I would be blogging more, and believe me, I've tried. The most frequent place I blog is at work, when I'm in a class and the students are working on a project. But for the last two weeks the DU network hasn't allowed me access to the site, saying it's a "potential phishing risk" or something....and then the time I tried to blog at home, it came back as the website undergoing routine maintenance. Grr! So here I am now. Apparently DU thinks this is an okay site again, because I am in class. *shrug*

HEALTH, YOGA, TEACHING, AND LOTS OF OTHER TOSH
Well, my recommitment to me so far has been going pretty well. I haven't lost as much weight as I would have liked to, but I'm trying to make it not about that. I have been doing yoga with real regularity, and meditating too, and I feel like it's really helped me in terms of emotional/mental balance and physical energy.

I read an article on Yoga Journal about eating, and how craving foods (particularly sweets) is a symbol of attachment, of obsession, and can knock off your balance. I had never thought about it that way, but I know that it's true now that I think about it. It seems blasphemous to me to not have some kind of dessert with my meal. But truthfully, it's not necessary or even always good. I equated it to the interview I read with Rodney Yee, who explained that sometimes being a teacher can cause you to become dependent on students' praise and flattery....you help them achieve something, and they get all excited about you and say what a good teacher you are (as if you could actually take credit for what they do), but the downside is, once that praise is gone, you're left feeling empty. You constantly search for the next "fix" of praise. Just as I constantly search for the next sweet taste. But what that does is take away your sense of balance and poise....you can't just know you're a good teacher intrinsically. You have to be told. And heaven forbid someone tells you you're not a good teacher.

And as a teacher (not of yoga, but in general) I also feel that way. I feel so gratified when a student expresses their positive feelings about my teaching style, my personality, the class, etc. that it sometimes feels lacking if I go for awhile without hearing any praise. And it cuts to the bone when someone expresses negative feelings towards me, towards my class--even towards my subject in general. That's not balance. That's attaching my sense of self-worth and value on something outside me. And it can only come from me. Only.

THEATER
They announced the new season for the Civic, and it sounds great. They're doing Cyrano in the fall, and I full intend to get cast in that show. *wink* Only one female role? Pshaw!

I'm also intending to try out for Pirates of Penzance, which Kindleberger is doing this summer. For the first time in years, I can actually participate in Kindleberger! Hooray! I've never done outdoor theater, so it should be a fun, new experience.

WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?
This actually happened a few weeks ago, but I thought I should report it anyway. I was on my way to work one Wednesday morning, and I'd gotten to the place just south of Hamilton where M-40 widens to four lanes (a blessing for those of us who hate getting caught behind the "Hurry Courier Service" car who goes as much as 20 mph under the speedlimit....hurry, indeed....). It's very busy at that point in the road. And as I approached it, I saw two dogs in the road. In fairness, there was about a foot of snow on the ground, so it's not like they had a lot of options about where to walk....but they conveniently chose the middle of the road, rather than the safer option of the shoulder. They were also completely unafraid of cars or honking, and in fact seemed like they wanted to go up to the cars who would slow down for them. Sadly, not a lot of people were slowing down, and that angered me....I mean, if you can't be bothered to think about the life of an animal, worry about your car! These were both large dogs, lab-sized or bigger, and would probably really do some damage to your front end if you hit them. But some people are just both callous and shortsighted, I guess.

So I stopped and called them over, and they came without hesitation....such sweet dogs, these two. It was obvious they had once belonged to someone; they loved people and even knew their commands a little bit. I diverted them (thankfully, a woman stopped and helped me who had dog treats and other accoutrements in her car) and Animal Control picked them up.

Well, then I learned that the county Animal Shelter routinely put animals down....they're just too small and can't handle the volume, so animals don't stick around for long if they aren't claimed or adopted. I was horrified. I couldn't imagine putting down such sweet dogs, and I don't even like dogs! I had every intention of adopting them myself and then finding homes for them personally, if no one else did. As it turned out, two separate rescue organizations took each of them, so I didn't have to resort to extremes. But I followed their progress all the way through, and now they'll be safe, happy, and in a home as opposed to Death Row.

It really makes me consider getting more involved in animal issues....I understand that county shelters have to make do with what they have, and if they don't have space....they have to do what they have to do. So why don't they get more funding to build bigger facilities? This is something I may address, since I will soon be an Allegan county resident....

Speaking of which.....

HOME BUYING
Our closing date is set: March 26! We will take possession on the 29th and begin moving then. Our official "big move" date is April 5, but throughout that week we'll be in and out, moving smaller things and painting, etc. to get ready for the rest of our stuff. It seems so strange to think it's only a matter of weeks away. 3 weeks from tomorrow!

POETRY
I realized something important this past week while I was on spring break in regards to my poetry. I'd been getting pretty frustrated, not just at my lack of output, but by the fact that what I have put out seems to be coming back without results. The frustration I felt reminded me of the same frustration (mixed with a healthy dose of self-doubt) that I felt for the last five years or so, trying to get cast in plays at the Civic. Literally, five years and no casting. Granted, I didn't try out for every play available, but I did audition at least once or twice a season as my schedule allowed, and no luck. This stood in direct contrast to the praise I'd received after my first show there from the illustrious Jim Carver (whom I saw, recently, at the Civic season-announcement party--it was so good to see him!).

So after I didn't get initially cast in The Women, I asked Preston, who was directing that show, what I could be doing differently in auditions to bring better results. Obviously I didn't need him to explain himself and why specifically he didn't cast me, but I wanted to know what I might be doing that was putting me in the slush pile. He said that while I read as well as anyone, I hadn't made myself "memorable" in comparison to all the others who auditioned with me (particularly for that show--he must have seen at least 75-100 women and girls). So, in other words, good, but not exciting, not enough to etch myself into the memory of the director. I took his words to heart, and, when I auditioned for Macbeth, I went over the top. And what do you know? I got cast.

That made me think of what Bob AuFrance, who directed me in Picnic my senior year at Albion said. He told me, "Remember, they [the audience] come to see you bleed." In other words, they don't pay money for a ticket to see something bland--they come to see your heart soar or break, so they can feel along with you--almost a voyeuristic/vicarious situation. And that made sense to me at the time, and it still does.

So, turning that same logic on my poetry, I can see where the poems I've been sending in are not bad, not thoroughly rejectable (as, in my darker moments, I imagine them to be), but simply not memorable. When a contest receives hundreds of entries, you absolutely need to stand out from the rest. You achieve that by "bleeding," so to speak, on the page. Letting your gut write the poem, not your head....your head can polish it, but your gut has to write it.

This (and a deadline) inspired me to revisit a poem I'd written probably a year and a half ago, during my semester with Alicia Ostriker. It was a poem about my dad's knee replacement surgery. I'd never been happy with it--it felt lackluster, bland, and emotionless. So I went back and bled all over it, figuratively speaking. *grin* But seriously--I allowed the real crux of the issue surface. Not the literal happening--oh, he had a knee replacement, it's a really grueling procedure, and he's in pain now, isn't that sad....but OH. He's my dad, we signed him up for this thinking it would help and it didn't, and now his pain is my pain, and not just that--all the drugs and their side effects, the feeling like this is a horrible carnival ride we can't get off of now, the heartbreak of it. I won't post it here because it is up for consideration at an online poetry journal, but rest assured, you'll see it there when it comes out. :)

30 Days

I've made a decision: tomorrow begins a new 30-day challenge for me. I've sort of "fallen off the wagon," so to speak, in terms of my attention to myself and my health. So I'm clambering back on.

What prompted this thought was the remembrance of how it felt when I was really paying attention. Not just to things like calories and minutes of activity, but to myself. To my body. What it wants, what it needs, and recognizing the difference between the two. I'm already trying to figure out what it is about my relationship with food that causes me to want to secretly pig out and hide the evidence (although eventually the evidence becomes apparent on my hips). I heard on an informational radio show a tip to parents, saying "let your child serve him or herself at mealtimes. They'll naturally gravitate towards portion sizes that suit them in terms of their hunger and their nutritional needs." And my first thought was, when did that disappear for me? I can't remember a time when I didn't look at food and think MORE!

However, I know that greediness does not respond to restriction. The more I disallow, the more likely I am to break down eventually and eat myself sick. I have to find a happy medium between a rigid, pre-planned meal list and the ability to choose what I feel like eating. I need choices. But above all, I need to learn how to listen to my body and not the little voice inside that wants to hoard and binge. My physical self knows when it's hungry, and how much food will satisfy it. I need to find that voice.

To that end, I'm going to be incorporating daily meditation, and often journalling and/or blogging here as I go. Daily time to be with myself and listen deeply. Because I think what really needs to be addressed is my thought process, those voices inside--some of which are currently louder than others.

So, follow along with my journey, if you will! Hopefully you find some nuggets you can hold on to, too. You can also watch me on Sparkpeople as I track and journal there; my screen name is issa1010.

Here's to 30 days of focus!

A Red-Letter Day

HOME
Today was our home inspection. We met the inspector at the house and really had no idea what we were in for. Obviously we wanted him to be both thorough and to tell us that the house was perfect--two possibly incongruous desires, but we hoped for the best. As it was, it went swimmingly. The inspector found nothing in the way of serious issues with the house, and gave it a "clean bill of health," so to speak. There are a few minor things, nothing hazardous to our health, that we're going to ask the sellers to fix up before we make the final exchange of keys.

It felt great being in that house, knowing that it was, for all intents and purposes, mine. I stood in the master bedroom taking pictures, and felt a tingle of warmth and excitement. This is my room! I can decorate it, fill it with treasures, make it my own, and stay in it for a long, long time. And the best part is, my nagging need to avoid stagnation allows me to re-decorate, re-fill, totally change things around whenever I want.

I'm trying to decide (with some help and input from Ryan, of course) how we're going to set things up. We have two bedrooms besides the master--one is fairly small and is currently used as a nursery by the present owners, but the other one is good-sized, and there is a sizable area in the basement too. We'd like to have a guest room, an office, and a future kids' room, but I also want an area to set aside for my yoga practice and meditation. Some place that's just mine. I wonder where I'm going to carve that space out...

SUCKING ME DRY, or, PUTTING ON MY BIG GIRL PANTIES
Today was also a very important day on two other levels, one of which being the fact that today marks the fourth blood donation I've made in a 12-month period. Anyone who knows me well (or even in passing) knows that I have what I affectionately refer to as a "problem" with needles. To call it a problem is to call the fighting in the Middle East a "spat." I first discovered this problem about 8 years ago when I had to have some bloodwork done--they were going to test my thyroid for some reason or other, and I literally freaked out. Not in an exaggerated way. I sobbed, I pulled at my hair, I threatened nurses....it took all of three hours to get a single vial of blood from me. The order called for two, but the nurse said one would have to do, because clearly they weren't going to get another one from me in the state I was in.

Since that day, we've speculated on what has shorted in my wiring, so to speak. There are theories involving repressed memories of my ear piercing (which was, in fact, traumatic), having a mean pedatrician (also true), and so on and so forth. What really matters is that, in the past year or so, I've decided I really don't want to be this way anymore. It's embarrassing, honestly. To have a total meltdown in front of perfect strangers over something that is, to most people, a minor discomfort--and that is really the worst part of it--people's reactions. A year ago (February 13, 2007--the date is etched into my memory) I decided to put an end to my own suffering, or at least try. After all, there are things in life ahead that are just going to require needles--childbirth, my kids' immunizations, checking cholesterol, all the things that are part of leading a healthy life. And I'd like to get through them with my dignity intact, if possible. So I went to the Michigan Community Blood Center in Grand Rapids and they facilitated my first ever voluntary poke. I figured that if I was going to do it, I might as well put myself in a position to help others.

Since that date, and the subsequent freak-out that the staff kindly endured, I have given blood twice more. I had signed a card saying I would give four times in 12 months. If I made that goal, a gift would be given to a hospitalized child in my honor. I also have gotten to the point where I really don't get too crazy--I might shed a tear or two, or be really tense, but no more hyperventilating, no more onslaught of tears. The staff at the MCBC is phenomenal--exceedingly kind and compassionate, skilled, and they double well as therapists too. *smile*

Today I was faced with a choice. The weather in Michigan is atrocious right now, and we were beginning to be hit by yet another storm. Since my 1-year deadline is coming up, and my chances to go to GR were limited, I thought I might take advantage of the Red Cross blood drive being held at school today. I figured, since every time recently that I've planned to go, the weather has sabotaged me, I had every reason to believe it would again when I tried to go tomorrow. So why not do it now, while I had the chance?

I was nervous because I don't do blood drives, as a rule. Part of getting through the experience gracefully is my knowledge that no one is sitting around gaping at me or judging me, and blood drives by definition mean lots of people with not much else to do than sit around and look at other people. Not my idea of a good time. And especially at work--I didn't want my students to see me fall apart. But since the weather was bad and not many people were around, I thought I might be able to handle it.

So, accomplishment #1: I did, in fact, give blood today for the fourth time, as pledged. Go me! I would say I'm still not "better"--I may never be "better" in the way that I don't care at all about needles, but at least I can get through it without breaking down. That may be the best I can hope for, and it's good enough.

Accomplishment #2 was dealing with a nurse today that would have formerly had me crumple into a spineless heap on the floor. I hate dealing with callous people. I really do. No matter what the situation is, I am just horrible at standing up for myself when someone is rude or mean or insensitive. I don't know why....but I really want to get better at it. So when I encountered a nurse at the blood drive (the ONLY one there, I will add, who was like this....everyone else was very kind), I did manage to stand up for myself. She was in charge of doing the initial screenings and registration, and when I told her I might cry during the finger prick and then, obviously, the donation itself, she said, "well, we can't proceed if you're crying."

*blink*

I really thought she was joking at first. Who ever heard of such a thing? But she was very serious. And then she continued to stare at me like I was a sideshow attraction at a circus as I tried to explain about my "problem." She literally could not believe someone might be anxious about needles. Let alone that they might cry about it. And so, without returning her meanness, I gathered my things back up and said, "maybe today is not the day for it. Thank you anyway." And I left!

What I really wish I'd said would be something like, "Is there someone else I could work with? I have very specific needs and I would love to have your most patient nurse help me." Because I really did want to give blood, and leaving would mean I might not make my goal of the fourth donation by next Wednesday. But even so--not accepting her attitude was a huge step for me in Project Put-On-Your-Big-Girl-Panties, in which I learn to be the fabulous woman I am and not let anyone dim my radiance with their uncompassionate, impatient, rude, and insensitive ways.

This is not to say that I don't understand the idea of someone having a bad day, and you catch them at a bad moment and they act out. That I totally understand (even though I maintain we always have a choice in how we interact, and it's our responsibility not to displace negative feelings onto undeserving victims). This was different. This was clearly a personality issue, and I was having none of it. Booya!

...Still, the way out of the building led me back into the room where the other, nicer nurses were--the one's I'd chatted with earlier--and they were expecting me to come back registered and ready to donate. When I explained what happened, they rushed to my side and said, "don't you listen, we'll check you in ourselves, you don't have to work with anyone else." And so we got through it. I'm glad they did that. I'm really proud of myself for giving a fourth time.

Next stop: volunteering at the MCBC? Possibly....

Slack Attack

Ha! It's been awhile. Things have been very busy, indeed. I have four classes this term, and a grand total of probably about 70 students (I lost a few along the way, as usual; the original count was 75+). So that means a lot of grading and planning for me, which means, in proportion, not a lot of time to blog. But things, they are a-changing!

HOME
Biggest news yet: we are buying a house! I would post a picture here, but the listing has been taken offline (obviously, since it's no longer on the market). Tomorrow, we're going to have the home inspection done, and I plan on taking a camera so I can provide pics to the masses.

Anyway, it's the same house we almost bought last year. We came so close--even had the offer written up--but chickened out at the last minute when we did a closer examination of our finances. We decided to wait and use my new income to pay down debt. We did just that (and pretty successfully, too) and then came to find out the house was still available! So we went to see it and fell in love with it all over again. We're in a much better place now to afford it, so we're going for it. It's about time! I'm so tired of renting. At this point, we're looking to move the first weekend of April. We take possession of it earlier that week, so we'll be spending evenings after work that week painting and cleaning and otherwise getting it ready for our stuff.

We're taking time now to go through our things and really pare down our clutter. Actually, it's not really clutter--not in the debilitating sense of the word--we just own a LOT. And I have no idea how that happened. On some level, it's clear, because obviously we each lived alone for a few years before we got married, so we had two households' worth of living supplies, plus we got a whole load of wedding gifts. Somehow we ended up with 2-3 blenders. ??? Thankfully I've pared some of it down over the years....a girlfriend had a house fire and needed new kitchen things, which I was happy to donate....and so on. But there's still a lot.

I know that a lot of my packrat ways are due to the fact that I'm very sentimental. But I'm the worst kind of sentimentalist, because I also have a memory like an elephant. Other people save some cute little souvenir and later forget where they got it or why, or who got it for them. I remember. But the best part of the de-cluttering has been actually realizing that I don't remember everything anymore. In going through a box of knickknack-y things that I never got around to unpacking in the 3, almost 4 years that I've lived in this place, I found two little Hot Wheels cars modeled after the new Volkswagen Beetle. I think they came from Happy Meals or something, and I hung on to them for at least 2 moves. Now I can't remember where I got them, or why I thought they were so cool. And I was so proud of myself for forgetting! And also proud for throwing them away, instead of telling myself I would give them to my nephew (because I doubt I'll see him between now and the move, and then the cars would just get packed away and forgotten about again).

THEATER
Actually, it feels redundant to write under this category, because I really have nothing to report other than I've opted not to participate in any theater until the summer. Partly this is because of my work schedule (it's been made clear to me that I may not have any more subs for classes), and then of course the move. There's just too much going on.

I did get an invitation to audition for Hollywood Arms, but the timing is just horrible. It coincides directly with our move and pre-moving (painting, etc.). I would really love to be a part of that show, because Carol Burnett is one of my favorite comediennes of all time, but it's just not going to work. Ryan would kill me dead!

POETRY
Seems like sometimes everything comes together....sometimes not. I really haven't felt terribly inspired lately. What I have tried to do is be kind to myself, not strain against myself, and allow any creative longings to take flight. What I mean by that is, okay--last November, I wrote a NaNo novel. I finished it! It was a huge accomplishment for me, and I have to say, not all of it was crap. I mean, there's potential there for it to be something. And lately, I have found myself more inclined to work on that than on poetry. Part of me wants to slap my own wrist--"bad girl! You're a poet, not a novelist!"--but then I tell myself, no. You are a writer. You are an artist. And whatever feels right, right now, is what you should pursue. Poetry will come in unbidden hours, a dripping tap that suddenly comes on full force.

I'm also getting started on a new essay for Alehouse; I'm thinking I'll focus on Ruth Ellen Kocher's writing and how it has informed my own. Ross Gay introduced me to her writing during my last semester at NEC, and then I had the privilege of meeting her later on. She's one of those poets who you read and it has a profound effect on you. Some poets you admire, but others you read and think, "that's it. That's the direction I want to go." Not something idolizing as "I want to be her," but that feeling of kindred-ness, of recognizing a shred of yourself in someone else's writing that perhaps you'd neglected, but suddenly realized was still there waiting for you to remember.

Speaking of which, I'd better shoot her an email! Gotta get this thing on the road! :)

Victory!

Yesterday we officially paid off our first credit card. We had decided back in the summer, when I first took the new job, that we would wait on buying a house until we had paid down some of our debt. We had done some calculations and discovered that while we could afford a house, we couldn't afford a house AND make headway on debt. We could do one or the other, but not both at once. So, the somewhat responsible people we are, we waited and focused on the debt. Yesterday we mailed the final check to pay off the first card we focused on. It had a decent balance on it, and the interest rate was ludicrous. And now it's gone! Ryan photocopied the check before he mailed it, and we plan to make a "Wall of Shame-turned-Fame," showing our progress. We don't plan to have it all paid off by spring (which is our tentative timeline to buying a home), but we should have made a serious dent by then, which will in turn probably get us a better mortgage. We're also saving a lot each month, so we might have the beginnings of a real down payment.

I find it interesting that the last loan officer we spoke to about mortgages said he thought it was fairly silly to worry about down payments anymore....most folks don't have the traditional 20%, and it doesn't knock that much off your overall monthly payments from a bank perspective. However, when we were seriously looking at one house and even went as far as to get a pre-approval for it, our lack of down payment meant we had to get mortgage insurance. Mortgage insurance adds as much as $200 per month to your payment. To me, that's significant and thoroughly discouraging. And yes, it only lasts as long as it takes you to accrue that 20% equity, but that takes a long time if you're only paying the minimum--and let's really face the irony here. They're essentially making the people WHO CAN'T AFFORD THE DOWN PAYMENT pay more. Does that make sense to anyone? Or am I the only one who finds it a little strange and illogical?

Granted, I understand that the mortgage companies need the reassurance that, should you default on your loan, they won't be socked with hundreds of thousands of dollars of unpaid mortgage. I understand that concern. However, perhaps the real determining factor should be repayment histories--examining a potential customer's credit score and seeing how well they've managed their obligations. We take great pride in the fact that, even when things were at their very worst financially speaking, we somehow managed--on one income!--to squeak through with only one late payment on our records. Only one! And that was a 30-60 day payment, not a complete non-payment. Just mailed it a little late. I think that should count for more in the scheme of things, because it really was an accomplishment. But who asked me? No one, that's who. *laugh*

NANO
I'm still about a day behind in my NaNoWriMo word count, but it's still the best I've ever done, and really the most fiction I've ever managed to write. I can feel myself hitting the wall a little bit--since I didn't start out with a clear direction for the story, I'm fumbling with what to do next, and how things are going to resolve themselves.

Word count: 23536/50000