The fates are really trying. They're gathering around, totally rallied, working together to try to outwit the badness (karma?) and make my birthday the best possible day. Here is the yin and yang that has been my first fourteen hours of 32:
+ Going out for fabulous drinks at my only official "party" which wasn't really official
-- I sometimes feel when I'm with the people that I was with that I'm a total outsider and kind of like they just let me tag along (I know all of the aforementioned people read this and we all know it's me and my brain and not you at all so don't flip out *grin*) and like I don't really know anything about books or music or any of the important things in life.
-- When I got to my car there was a glowing ticket there for $105. Thanks for the birthday gift, Hennepin County.
-- This morning I woke up crabby and hot and angry.
+ When I let Gatsby out there was a marvelous breeze that cooled me down (on all levels)
-- Had to teach summer school rather than sleeping in, and the kids talked non-stop
+ I had a great conversation with three kids and when I was walking out of school with my bag and my coffee I felt every inch of 32 in the best way possible: professional, together, needed.
+I studied for my bio quiz and felt like I knew everything there is to know about photosynthesis
-- I got a C on the bio test I took on Tuesday
+ I did not get an F on the bio test I took on Tuesday
-- I definitely failed the quiz on photosynthesis, which I had trouble seeing since I was literally wiping away my tears from the C on the test.
--I went to the vending machines between bio class and lab and realized I was 20 cents short of affording anything.
+ I dug deeply in every crevice of my purse and bag and found a quarter
-- I put all the money into the machine and found out everything in the machine is mislabled and I was five cents short. No food.
+ As the tears were threatening again 'Stay' by Lisa Loeb and the Nine Stories came on the radio. My karaoke song.
See what I mean?
My birthday has been a day of enjoying simple pleasures. It could have very, very easily have been a bad day. There was a time when I would have made it a bad day. But, the fates seem insistent that for every bad that happens there is a good right along with it, and I'm totally willing to go along with them on that. I stopped at picked up some chinese food on the way home from lab, and now I'm crashed out on the couch reading a shitload of messages from people who love me and don't mind telling me so on my special day. One of the realizations that comes with being older is realizing that a person has to pave their own way in this world, and that includes their happiness. I can dwell on the Cs and the failures and the expensive ticket, or I can be loved, eat Chinese food, pick up fresh dry cleaning, enjoy the gorgeous 78 degree, cloudless sunny day, and read the summer Tin House.
Happy birthday to me---here's to another year of learning, growing, and loving my friends and family. In the last calendar year I've met new people, some of whom are becoming very dear to me. I've also had some pretty staunch reminders that we aren't guaranteed anything but this present moment and it's important to make that moment special and surrounded by people I care about. Thirty-two years is thirty-one, -two, -three longer than a lot of other people get, so I'm incredibly thankful.
I am who I am, which is too many things to have one specific title. That's why I need a blog.
Showing posts with label the Loft. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the Loft. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Book #49: Rainlight by Alison McGhee
Alison McGhee may very well be my favorite author of the year. Hers is a style I would love to emulate, both in terms of idea and of style. Rainlight is a young adult novel told from four points of view (with a brief fifth for a few moments toward the end, the most moving point of view in the entire story). Following a tragedy, four people who are all closely related (in some cases closer than they think) all work together to help lessen the loss. Mallie is nine but extremely mature for her age, and she was, for me, the most compelling character. Her grandfather, Tim, was the other major character for me.
The novel promises that secrets will be revealed and they are, but not in any of those huge in-your-face unbelievable moments that writers can sometimes rely on. The secrets are not what's ultimately most important--McGhee keeps the focus on the characters and their lives.
Like All Rivers Flow to the Sea, McGhee's style in Rainlight was more poetic than I'm used to in fiction--particularly young adult fiction--to the point that I'm going to need to read this book again because at some points I was so caught up in the beauty of the language that the plot started to slip for me. Some of the characters and their relationships blended for me; I blame that not on lazy writing but on lazy reading.
The greatest thing about Alison McGhee is that she's in Minnesota, and is hugely active at the Loft. I'm planning to take a workshop with her in the spring on the chronology of fiction, something she's extremely artful at. Can't wait!
The novel promises that secrets will be revealed and they are, but not in any of those huge in-your-face unbelievable moments that writers can sometimes rely on. The secrets are not what's ultimately most important--McGhee keeps the focus on the characters and their lives.
Like All Rivers Flow to the Sea, McGhee's style in Rainlight was more poetic than I'm used to in fiction--particularly young adult fiction--to the point that I'm going to need to read this book again because at some points I was so caught up in the beauty of the language that the plot started to slip for me. Some of the characters and their relationships blended for me; I blame that not on lazy writing but on lazy reading.
The greatest thing about Alison McGhee is that she's in Minnesota, and is hugely active at the Loft. I'm planning to take a workshop with her in the spring on the chronology of fiction, something she's extremely artful at. Can't wait!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
The absolutely raddest night EVER
Okay, so tonight Jodi and I braved tornadoes, hail, and general death-causing weather to go to the Loft to see Josh Furst read from his book The Sabotage Cafe. I promised I'd let Jodi write about it first, but I just can't contain myself.
This was, hands down, the most fucking fabulous night ever. EVER.
Josh's reading was kick ass. I haven't finished the book yet (y'all know how I am with the finishing of things), but I had read two of the three parts he read, including the part he read just for Jodi. The other reading was, well, horrifically bad. On multiple levels. The writing was terrible, and the author read like she was bored to tears with her own work.
After the reading, we did the book buying/author signing thing, and Jags' husband, David, asked Josh if he wanted to go hang with us at Grumpy's after he was done doing his writer thing.
He said yes.
So we're sitting there at Grumpy's, at our usual table, except instead of shooting the shit with the likes of our fellow classmates, we're shooting the shit with Josh Fucking Furst. And his entourage, all of whom were quite personable and cool. We talked about the book, Grumpy's tots, and a lot of punk music chat that totally went over my head (at one point I told Jodi how over my head I was...I could have been sitting around with a batch of nuclear physicists discussing the square root of pi and I would have had more to contribute).
Josh was kind enough to bum me a smoke, and while we were out smoking I was able to tell him what my favorite part of the book was, such a human moment of pity and of just plain, simple, ugly *truth* that I didn't feel totally comfortable saying at the whole table and had planned to email him about, because I didn't imagine I'd get to talk with him alone.
Anyway, suffice to say, tonight was the absolute best night at the Loft ever. Jodi and I were like little kids on the way home, talking about how awesome it was that we got to hang with the author after his reading, and we discussed how he picked part of his reading for her, and what a star fucker I am because of course I think he's totally hot.
Buy Josh's book. Especially if you live in the twin cities, because you'll recognize it. I'm sure if you've ever associated with the punk scene on any level you'll recognize it too, but I can't speak to that. You'll like it. Good characters and good solid writing, and it's always good to support writers who are really good, smart people, like Josh is.
This was, hands down, the most fucking fabulous night ever. EVER.
Josh's reading was kick ass. I haven't finished the book yet (y'all know how I am with the finishing of things), but I had read two of the three parts he read, including the part he read just for Jodi. The other reading was, well, horrifically bad. On multiple levels. The writing was terrible, and the author read like she was bored to tears with her own work.
After the reading, we did the book buying/author signing thing, and Jags' husband, David, asked Josh if he wanted to go hang with us at Grumpy's after he was done doing his writer thing.
He said yes.
So we're sitting there at Grumpy's, at our usual table, except instead of shooting the shit with the likes of our fellow classmates, we're shooting the shit with Josh Fucking Furst. And his entourage, all of whom were quite personable and cool. We talked about the book, Grumpy's tots, and a lot of punk music chat that totally went over my head (at one point I told Jodi how over my head I was...I could have been sitting around with a batch of nuclear physicists discussing the square root of pi and I would have had more to contribute).
Josh was kind enough to bum me a smoke, and while we were out smoking I was able to tell him what my favorite part of the book was, such a human moment of pity and of just plain, simple, ugly *truth* that I didn't feel totally comfortable saying at the whole table and had planned to email him about, because I didn't imagine I'd get to talk with him alone.
Anyway, suffice to say, tonight was the absolute best night at the Loft ever. Jodi and I were like little kids on the way home, talking about how awesome it was that we got to hang with the author after his reading, and we discussed how he picked part of his reading for her, and what a star fucker I am because of course I think he's totally hot.
Buy Josh's book. Especially if you live in the twin cities, because you'll recognize it. I'm sure if you've ever associated with the punk scene on any level you'll recognize it too, but I can't speak to that. You'll like it. Good characters and good solid writing, and it's always good to support writers who are really good, smart people, like Josh is.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Searching
The reading tonight was absolutely amazing. Heather, Paul and I went to Grumpy's afterward and talked up a storm about writing, careers, kids, hockey, you name it. Heather and I are going to have a "party for two" next Saturday, St. Patrick's Day, where much alcohol will be consumed, stories will be discussed, and all topics girlie and otherwise will be covered.
The time has come to do some "soul searching"--a term I hate because it sounds like so much damn work-- and figure out what I want to be doing for the next ten years. My twenties passed in a blaze of college, teaching, and poor relationships. I am determined that my thirties not pass the same way. Do I want an MFA? I have no idea. Do I want to stay teaching? No clue. Do I want to get married? I can't see myself married to anyone from my twenties.
It doesn't make sense to me to keep blindly doing the same thing that I started doing when I was 22 just because it seemed like a good idea then. Lots of things seemed smart when I was 22 that I now realize were completely idiotic.
So I need to figure out what to do...professionally and personally. A daunting task.
The time has come to do some "soul searching"--a term I hate because it sounds like so much damn work-- and figure out what I want to be doing for the next ten years. My twenties passed in a blaze of college, teaching, and poor relationships. I am determined that my thirties not pass the same way. Do I want an MFA? I have no idea. Do I want to stay teaching? No clue. Do I want to get married? I can't see myself married to anyone from my twenties.
It doesn't make sense to me to keep blindly doing the same thing that I started doing when I was 22 just because it seemed like a good idea then. Lots of things seemed smart when I was 22 that I now realize were completely idiotic.
So I need to figure out what to do...professionally and personally. A daunting task.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
It was all so rad I pretty much wet my pants
Last night I finally got to see Rob Voedisch and Dale Gregory Anderson read at The Loft. It was so kick ass. Rob read first; he read "Glam Cowboys." Then Dale read from his just-finished novel, After the Festival. The crowd was smaller than I had expected, but everyone there adores both of them. I've wanted to see Rob read for years, and Dale read for about a year (since I've known each of them). It's so strange to see Rob be all serious, because in class he's very light even when talking about serious things. I was a huge fan of the whole night.
So after we did the obligatory reading, us as audience and Dale and Rob as readers, we meandered over to Grumpy's for the celebration of how great everyone is. I was at one end of the table with Mike, Michael, Heather, Brad, Heather's fiance Paul, and Greg. It was a blast. We talked about grad school and stories and classes and the mentor series, and Michael's son's wedding and his daughter's car and I ate some potato skins. It's just so amazingly wonderful when a bunch of writers get together. The energy is palpable, and the whole night just seems to whirl by in a crazy, crystal way. Does that make sense? Maybe not to you, but it would to everyone there.
I did not get a chance to talk to either Rob or Dale much, which bummed me out. Rob came up to me when I was on my way out and I dumped a ton of information on him, only about 1% he really needed to know, but whatever.
Tonight I'm happyhouring with Heather and can't wait. Plus, I dig this weather. Except I'm freezing.
So after we did the obligatory reading, us as audience and Dale and Rob as readers, we meandered over to Grumpy's for the celebration of how great everyone is. I was at one end of the table with Mike, Michael, Heather, Brad, Heather's fiance Paul, and Greg. It was a blast. We talked about grad school and stories and classes and the mentor series, and Michael's son's wedding and his daughter's car and I ate some potato skins. It's just so amazingly wonderful when a bunch of writers get together. The energy is palpable, and the whole night just seems to whirl by in a crazy, crystal way. Does that make sense? Maybe not to you, but it would to everyone there.
I did not get a chance to talk to either Rob or Dale much, which bummed me out. Rob came up to me when I was on my way out and I dumped a ton of information on him, only about 1% he really needed to know, but whatever.
Tonight I'm happyhouring with Heather and can't wait. Plus, I dig this weather. Except I'm freezing.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Gatsby woke me this morning
By licking my face.
I was oversleeping, and when I opened my eyes he was sitting right next to me, peering into my face like a concerned mom. I shoved him away a few times but he kept coming back, like a living snooze alarm, until I finally got up.
He has not had an accident ALL WEEK. Go Gatsby!
So, the reason why it was so hard for me to wake up today was because of class and Grumpy's last night. Yesterday started out fine but just got ickier and ickier, culminating in something that happened in class that just irritated the piss out of me. But after class the day spiked to near perfection when we all went out to Grumpy's.
We hung out for two hours waiting for Rob to finish teaching so he could meet us, and by the time he got there only Mike, Jodi and I were there. We chatted about all sorts of stuff, and it was so kick ass I could hardly stand it. By the time I drove home all the ick of the day had been erased.
But this morning, Good Grief Charlie Brown was I tired. I am getting too old to be out drinking until 11pm and get to work by 7am. I miss the days when I'd drink until 2am and be at work at 7am. I may sigh wistfully now.
I was oversleeping, and when I opened my eyes he was sitting right next to me, peering into my face like a concerned mom. I shoved him away a few times but he kept coming back, like a living snooze alarm, until I finally got up.
He has not had an accident ALL WEEK. Go Gatsby!
So, the reason why it was so hard for me to wake up today was because of class and Grumpy's last night. Yesterday started out fine but just got ickier and ickier, culminating in something that happened in class that just irritated the piss out of me. But after class the day spiked to near perfection when we all went out to Grumpy's.
We hung out for two hours waiting for Rob to finish teaching so he could meet us, and by the time he got there only Mike, Jodi and I were there. We chatted about all sorts of stuff, and it was so kick ass I could hardly stand it. By the time I drove home all the ick of the day had been erased.
But this morning, Good Grief Charlie Brown was I tired. I am getting too old to be out drinking until 11pm and get to work by 7am. I miss the days when I'd drink until 2am and be at work at 7am. I may sigh wistfully now.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Life's mysterious questions
Okay I have 15 questions to answer regarding teaching and the most effective way to use brain theory in the classroom. The books make a large assumption by suggesting that all of my students have functional brains. Trust me; they do not.
But, I need to mail the responses out ideally tomorrow by the last mail, but at latest on Friday by the last mail so that they get there by Monday. I have yet another dreaded class tomorrow night. Who would have thought that I would dread a Loft class? But, well, in spite of Rob the fabulous instructor and Heather the coolest chick around, it's just not as fun as it could be.
But, I need to mail the responses out ideally tomorrow by the last mail, but at latest on Friday by the last mail so that they get there by Monday. I have yet another dreaded class tomorrow night. Who would have thought that I would dread a Loft class? But, well, in spite of Rob the fabulous instructor and Heather the coolest chick around, it's just not as fun as it could be.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Self-preservation = procrastination
In the spirit of licking my wounds following last night's writing class and a less-than-stellar review on my latest story, I'm holing myself up for the entire day to watch High Fidelity, Donnie Brasco, and Gia (in that order) and play The Sims 2.
There are two problems with this. One, I have tons of shit to do. My house is a disaster, I have to send out a writing sample today for my writing group so we can critique it this weekend (another critique--can't wait for that. Christ.) and I have two classes to finish work for. Two books to read. That's what I should be doing.
The other problem is that I'm being a big baby. My review last night wasn't bad. It was just less than what I expected. This is the pitfall of writers (I hope)--that no one will ever know how much work you put into a story. I wanted reviews from four people who had read the story before I revised it that said that it was so much better than it was before...something to show that the two months I spent revising it every day weren't in vain. Two of the four said it was kick ass, much better than before. One said that yeah, it was cool. All good. The fourth, the one whose opinion is in the top five of those I respect the most with regards to my writing (and pretty near the top at that) said it was better before. Ouch.
So, yeah, today is a comfort day. Because I'm being a baby. But because I know that, it's okay. So there.
There are two problems with this. One, I have tons of shit to do. My house is a disaster, I have to send out a writing sample today for my writing group so we can critique it this weekend (another critique--can't wait for that. Christ.) and I have two classes to finish work for. Two books to read. That's what I should be doing.
The other problem is that I'm being a big baby. My review last night wasn't bad. It was just less than what I expected. This is the pitfall of writers (I hope)--that no one will ever know how much work you put into a story. I wanted reviews from four people who had read the story before I revised it that said that it was so much better than it was before...something to show that the two months I spent revising it every day weren't in vain. Two of the four said it was kick ass, much better than before. One said that yeah, it was cool. All good. The fourth, the one whose opinion is in the top five of those I respect the most with regards to my writing (and pretty near the top at that) said it was better before. Ouch.
So, yeah, today is a comfort day. Because I'm being a baby. But because I know that, it's okay. So there.
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