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.

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.

What Really Works

I just got done reading the most recent postings on the blog for my MFA program, Tyger Burning. It's been updated to include pictures from alumni and lots of postings about what folks are doing these days. Some I don't know because they graduated from the program before my arrival in January 2005, but many I knew (know) and love. I'm so happy for their successes.

And insanely jealous.

I feel as though my creative life is stalled. I feel as though all the publications, awards, all of that--it could be mine. I know I have the potential to achieve great things in the field. But ever since graduation, it has been like pulling teeth to coerce myself to invest the time and energy into writing truly noteworthy poetry--let alone sending it to people who would note it. I've made some halfhearted attempts over the past several months, most of which have come back as rejections. I understand that this is the game--you submit, submit, submit, like throwing jelly at a wall and hoping some will stick while the rest runs off. I know that it takes more than one try. And in honesty, I know I have not given it enough tries.

That doesn't make it easier to receive those rejection letters, or to see the success of an acquaintance. I'm proud to say I know those people; proud to say I come from the same stock as them, that I was taught by the same esteemed teachers. But I worry that it didn't rub off on me in the same way. Continually, I return to the question: "if this is what I love, why is it so hard to make myself commit to it?"

And the usual answers surface: work takes a lot of time, as does the commute to and from. The miscellany of preparing to buy a new house. My need to also devote time to my physical health and well-being. My investment in my marriage. Wanting to be there for family. All of those things are legitimate distractions. But it feels like my creative life is suffering from neglect, as well as the non-paying profession that I'd like to turn into a more lucrative one. I love being at Davenport, the feeling that I have gotten my foot in the door of academia, but it would be nicer to teach more creative class, literature, all of that....

And now if you'll excuse me, I have to go bust some students on Facebook.

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!

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! :)

Holiday Countdown

NaNo Word count: 30,622/50,000

Some days are full of surprises.

Today wasn't really one of them, but I felt like saying that! It was a pretty bog standard day, actually; it being so close to the holiday, I saw attendance in my classes take a serious dip. One of my classes only had one student in it! She and I sat and talked about her paper (we're writing about literature and the arts right now), about Shakespeare in general, and then about life. I am consistently honored and humbled by the way some of my students open up to me personally. It makes me feel as though I'm a part of their lives in a way that's more meaningful than simply teaching them proper grammar and how to write a strong thesis statement. It's what makes my job worthwhile.

Speaking of my job, tomorrow is my 90-day evaluation. Hopefully this goes well! I have no reason to think it won't, but you know how it is....evaluation. There's just no way to make that sound good!

FAMILY
On the family front, my grandma had a pacemaker installed (is that the right word? installed?) last week. They nicked one of her lungs, which is apparently a common error in this type of surgery, but she self-healed and appears fine. Better than fine, actually. Her circulation appears to have improved, and she says she feels more energetic. At the very least, we're hoping she won't be having the falls she was having before. She's back in her assisted living home and getting some PT during recovery. Mom said that she (my grandma) even got out her crochet needle and started crocheting! This is something she hasn't done in years--not since my grandfather died in 2004. I'm really glad she's doing it, because, well, she's famous for her baby booties, and I want to make sure I have a pair for when we start having kids!

I still think it's miraculous what the human body can do. A year ago, she had a massive stroke--the kind that can shut people down for good. And now, here she is, crocheting! And happier than ever.

POETRY
For those of you who keep up with such things, my review of Patrick Rosal's My American Kundiman has appeared in Alehouse this month. So far, still no responses on any of my submissions from the spring, summer, and obviously not fall. I'm getting a little antsy! But I keep rollin'; I have my submission schedule to keep, and I'm constantly adding to it.

I've been really trying to focus on revision (around my NaNo exploits, of course)--I have a good deal of new material that can and should be edited. Much love to my friend Michael, who's volunteered to read my stuff and give me the real truth. *sheepish grin*

All Good Things

THEATER

Well, the curtain closed on Macbeth this Saturday. I'm going to miss hanging out with those folks...we had a rocking cast party at my house after strike. A good time was had by all, I think. I played my new role in the show as well as I could have hoped, although I thought the first night (Friday) went better than the second. It was a privilege to play it, though, and even more so considering that our dear Mychelle finally got to come and see the show on Saturday! She looks about ready to burst, and I can't wait to hear that little Molly has finally arrived.

And, as usual, now that a show is over, I have developed selective amnesia and have completely forgotten what a colossal time commitment it was--time away from friends, family, and life in general--and I'm looking ahead to what other shows I might want to be in. Whole Art is doing Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and are apparently auditioning for it in December. I wasn't sure anyone would want to cast me, with my two-nights-a-week class commitment, but my buddy Trevor said I might be surprised. So who knows, I might have a go. I may also try out for Little Women (the musical) at the Civic in the spring. This might be a more feasible way to go, since my classes end not too long into the rehearsal process and then I'm off for the entire summer.

POETRY

I've been keeping up with my submissions life lately, sending off to Compass Rose and their Pat Parnell Poetry Prize, and MARGIE's "Strong Rx Medicine" poetry prize as well. I'm still waiting to hear back from several others. I'm hoping that the long waits to hear back indicates some sort of promise, especially for the chapbook competitions....if I'd been weeded out early on in the reviewing process, maybe I would have heard already. Perhaps I'm still in the running!

In the meantime, I'm really working on full-length book ideas and construction. What that really is going to entail is a whole lot of new material. I have ideas floating around in my head, but I'm just not able to staple them down yet. Now that the play's over (assuming I don't dive headlong into another one), I'll be able to devote more time and energy to it.

See, this is the problem when you have too many hobbies that you love, and which both entail great amounts of time and effort.

Insert Clever Title Here

POETRY
Last week I picked up a copy of Adam Clay's The Wash. I haven't finished it yet, but I'm intrigued. He's a local poet, and apparently this is his first book. There is something odd and clamorous about his writing...strange images, dreamlike but not always in a sweet, sentimental way...strange ways to punctuate and capitalize. Images of Lisa Chavez, my old undergrad poetry prof, danced in my head--she never was one for postmodern weirdness. Myself, I don't gravitate towards it, but when done well, it certainly gives me pause. Next time I post, I'll have more thoughts about it. After all, a book with a dead bird on the cover is certainly intriguing.

HEALTH
I began another 30 day-committment today. I'm tired of going nowhere with my health (particularly in the category of weight loss), so I'm punching it up a notch. Now that the play is almost over, it will be much easier to feel in control of my life. And certainly no more fast food. Ugh, I forgot how that stuff sits at the bottom of your stomach like cement.

I also signed up for a program called PUSH this month. For $25 a month, you get hooked up with a world-class trainer who makes DVD workouts for you monthly, based on your specifications. In the beginning, you give them all kinds of information about your current fitness level, your preferences for exercise, any old injuries you may have, and what workout equipment you already have in your home that you could use. Then they make it for you. It's pretty sweet, actually, although I'm struggling with using it. The timing, for one, was not good--I haven't seen my house by daylight in weeks, and one is not inclined to do cardio at 11:00 p.m. after being on the go all day (especially when one knows that an identical day is in store tomorrow). So I haven't given it my all so far this month, although this week I'm trying to. On your DVD, you get 2 training sessions with the trainer of your choice (mine is Bob Harper, otherwise known as Trainer Bob on The Biggest Loser), a cardio workout, and an "area of focus" workout, which you specify for them each month--abs, legs, arms, etc. I'm loving the cardio--I chose kickboxing this month, and it's awesome. I'm having a hard time mentally adapting to the training sessions, though. They're simple exercises, done with various pieces of equipment, and right now it feels like it's just not enough to make a difference. Although, honestly, you're talking to a girl who is used to The Firm and all its hardcore, kick-butt glory. I've got to find some kind of middle ground.

I also have seven more papers to grade. *sigh*