Whence Come My Own Inspired Words

Recently I read at an open mic in NYC called The Inspired Word. A wonderful photographer was there taking pictures and here, suddenly, are some professional images I can actually see. I decided to insert them in my blog because seeing these make me appreciate how far I have come to be standing amongst these talented, amazing, writers. I know I always try to appreciate things as they happen, but sometimes the aftershock is just amazing. I feel lucky as hell these days.

As I have gone through so much in the past months I realize a few things. First, I think I was really close to losing my voice, and knew it for a long while. I would love to instantly say that I never would have let it happen completely. However given my past instances of self-destruction, I can't really lie to myself-never could. That said, I think it's the best thing that ever happened career-wise and one of the best things in my life because it makes everything painful slightly more bearable. Even when I arise at 6am knowing I have to spend a day in Newark with kids who don't want to be there... I know myself a tiny bit better. I can deal with things I never thought I could.

Sometimes when I get up in the middle of the night, exhausted after hours of half-sleep filled with panic and uncertainty I think "Where am I?" only to realize how many miles there are between here and where I need to be. Sometimes I wake up wiping tears from my eyes as I try to remember what was so funny and how I actually woke up from laughter...believe me this is all brand new. Occasionally I roll over to an empty pillow and think about how much time has passed and it feels like last week that it snowed: blizzard style around a conversation about dogs. I think so much about what has motivated me to keep going, keep writing, just do what I need to do to feel ok, and to know for sure what I love.

For most of my life if anyone tried to take my pen from me, I would attempt to state, "Is it not obvious I can't even form thoughts without that? I need that to speak, to exist, to be whole." Yet nothing would actually get spoken. Silence would surround me sarcophagus style as I clawed at cage bars for words to speak. It was quite severe how I physically could not form words when I needed to. Inadequately cringing around ground teeth, knotted stomach, stabbing pain in chest, thinking but never able to say what I felt. I would stare, holding my breath and maybe even walk away from things that were too much to handle. Usually I would run and want nothing more than to scream out what was on my mind but never could. Speech was robbed from me like money left on a bar, like confidence thrown in the street and run over by a truck with nine pairs of wheels.

Something has happened to me. I can say what I want to say, and I love it. Things have become so much better as other things simultaneously dissolved...it's all brand new. Granted there are still obstacles but they have become fewer and almost minor now. Seriously deflated is the huge stressful raptor that was flashing me glinted teeth as I cried on benches in the park every day with my dog. Yet again inspiration has saved my life from the hot exhalations of that monster that breaks me over and over again. If I hadn't had the past five months in the way that I have, I would not be sitting here typing out a blog while steadily employed, driving my own new car, having a plan, surrounded with love, overcoming confusion, tossing aside the self-doubt that kept me quiet so long.

I think I just need to say thank you as much as possible. Luckily those words are always ready to be exhaled from my lips and I'm pretty happy to have moved on from only being able to respond when asked what I was thinking with "I need a pen."

placemat ramblings

Well it's ok that we spill the salsa because I'm not a bitch.
I'm nice.
We still yell WHORES from a canyon even if somebody heckles when we perform.
No matter who's eyes bug out and tell us not to do our thing.
"There are children in the room"...we are not in a room lady-this is the street.
There are so many more terrible things on the street than my words.
It's what we do and where we go,
15 years later I still feel the same about writing down what counts.
To me,
everything counts.
We were young and thinking
about drinking
and doing our thing.
We were unstoppable...and still remain just so.
Not knowing what will come next or why we have to bother with rules when all they do is get broken.
We know what we want...sometimes.
When we do we just do it and it's all good.
When uncertain about stuff,
we may
get
angry.
Sure I have done the same.
Insecurity and hurtful things spewed from my lips before I can think for two seconds what I've said,
but not with you.
Not to people I love.
things keep flowing and it will be ok.
this is what I need to believe.
My shoes may fit good, but I change into my Chucks,
and I listen to you telling me I want something I can never have but you want it too.
I always want what I can't have and so do we all.
It's called life.
We need to converge to get what we need,
what we want
what we love.
All these people saying we just want something we can never have: it's just a song from the 90s that I don't believe in anymore.
I do what i need,
want,
feel,
love.
That's it,
not too many comprimises on this end beyond being a part of something whole that I have found finally again.
I don't think I want to hear about the past as much as i want to sit in the park and talk about now.
I can tell you all about pain and hurt and stuff that almost killed me...including me.
but the thing is,
I value my life so very much these days that I can't dwell on stuff that is in that past,
that fast past that I don't see anymore as much as I once did.
I passed the fast past away and its buried in my yard next to the tiger lilies.
alone.
it can stay alone,
and if the ground around it is unearthed,
I will just go get the fucking lawnmower.
Nobody can censor something they know nothing about,
and I can't flip a switch to turn off everything that makes me who I am,
I get physically ill at the thought of losing things I adore,
but in the mean time that we refer to as life,
I love you too.
The tiger lilies are coming up just fine.

Themeless and OK with That

Today is Day TWO of working over the summer quarter and I am located down in the burbs again: Woodbridge, NJ. As I have a FOUR hour break in between the two classes I teach today (not all bad as there is surprisingly some good local fare to be found) I am currently researching blogs...ironically.

At the end of the summer I will be teaching a blogging workshop. This is the first one I will be doing, and the theme of the class is The Mind and Body. As you can imagine, I have been rummaging through blogs of note that deal with fitness, health and wellness, cooking, veganism, and all this content is getting to be a bit much...and is making me more willing to take lunch a bit earlier! That said, feel free to comment and suggest any health and wellness blogs you may follow.

Thinking about what I actually want to share with the students I will be "teaching" how to blog (I use the word teach loosely here because they must indeed develop their own creative endeavors) I have realized that most people have a theme to their blogs...and I ummm...do not! However, I think about it more and more these days and I have decided that for now it's OK to be themeless. The reason to remain without an agenda--much the same as all my logic from younger years...I will not conform! (I just giggled as i wrote those familiar words)

While sifting through all the offerings on food prepared gluten-free, and meditation habits that help calm us city-folk the hell down, I have realized that when I write something that seems like its about to be all over the place, I actually end up with something coherent in the end. So for now, themelessness is not a problem. Starting out as a young writer who did not have anything but assignments to complete, it was easier to stick to a topic, or make my point in 500 words or so. However, no one assigns these blogging rants, and although people do often say, "Hey you should write about..." it is not as often that I take their advice.

Thinking in this same vein, I realize I finally have something concrete to build upon...I have an assignment again! I never thought I would feel so grateful for getting homework, but I am. Lately I've been contemplating going back to school--either for a PhD or a second Masters, and have thought about all the various times that I have changed my ideas of what I want to be when I grow up. Decision: I don't want to be labeled and I will not conform! (teehee always evokes fond memories when I say that) And actually, school is just too much money right now. As reality smacks me yet again...

This also (ironically but maybe not as funny)  brings to mind a memory of my mom (in her 40s at the time) driving me to school one day. I leaned my nine year old self over the back of her red, convertible, 1971 Ford Mustang driver's seat and said, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" This of course was funny on so many levels. First of all, at that point she was a stay at home mom; it was of course the eighties, and stating the obvious: she had pretty much grown up...and in fact had a career previous to being a stay at home mom.

This brings me to the next question (of my own that is) and please understand--I'm not a mom so smack me with a wet noodle, or comment if I am off base please! Is being a stay at home mom not a career in itself? I think about all the work I see my friends with offspring doing every day and it makes me exhausted...literally. I watch them scurry around with literal luggage that aparrently comes with babies and I feel like I want to sleep. So my blog is not specifically about food, fitness, or motherhood. There are things that all may be future endeavors in my life and at some point may appear--or have appeared already in my writing. (See previous post about that Fkn Clock) and that's fine...but is it really ok to be themeless?

Looking at the slight bit of info that goes on the profile page of a blog, we don't exactly give our readers a full-bio and life history. However the basics are there. You can see I'm female (at least I hope my pics are that decent) and that I teach, write and edit...and from a quick look, you can learn my location and a bit about what I do as a writer. Beyond that, however, I think there is maybe less than might appear on my book jacket (whence it comes) and therefore I feel an openness that is afforded to me. Call it creative licence, or artistic freedom. I call it my ability to be blunt and obscure whenever necessary.

Sometimes we need blunt and obscure instead of feeling bogged down with details. I had a friend recently say I was a streaming consciousness freak...which I totally think was a compliment . Thus, I avoided a label again-hooray! For example, my recent endeavors include: this blog, a short narrative piece about my father submitted to an essay contest, a woman's health topic article that has appeared on the kick-ass women's website PRG (http://www.powderroomgraffiti.com/feel-it/exercising-my-womanhood.html) and an ever evolving development of two books...simultaneously. hey I always said variety is the spice of life.

Based on all the mixed up themes and topics, and locations of my work, I will have to agree with my earlier thought that it's 100% OK to be themeless. After all, who wants only one genre to be listed under. Having worked in publishing--I know for a fact that you sell less books if that's your situation. I knew all that knowledge would be useful to my own work one day-AHA! And if you asked just now...did she just say she's agreed with herself...YES! And I will not conform! That means's I've said what I have said and I'm sticking to it. I think we know what that's all about by now...

Back to the idea of themes however, I have to wonder if there is something to be said for those who do not jump around as much as I do...literally and figuratively. I feel sometimes like I spend my life in a car, on bridges, trains, between city and suburbs, between different towns needed to travel to for work, or even just having taken a vacation for 9 days to Cape Cod and upstate NY...I am often displaced. This my friends, may just be the theme for me. No matter where I am or what I happen to be doing at the moment, I have yet to feel like I belong 100% to that place and time. Yes, displacement may be my theme...but I'm ok with that because nobody will shelve my work under: DISPLACED in the dusty, unexplored corner of Barnes &; Noble. If they do it's probably because they know me personally and just aren't so secure themselves...just kidding...or am I?

On that note--into the heat I go to get a gluten free muffin, take deep meditative breaths and a walk for ten minutes.

Viva la summer and thank goodness for airconditioned faculty rooms!

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From the Trenches to the Burbs: Nobody Shows

Thinking that the first day of the summer quarter would yield a full classroom prompted me to retire at a decent hour last night. I was actually in bed, asleep, in the 12's. I went home early, and even ate a calm, grilled chicken salad for dinner amongst friends. A rare happening, but it was something I was pleased about, especially since today was the first day of the summer quarter at work. Usually this means that people drag themselves to class, expecting the worst, or specifically now, dread having to leave the A/C in 105 degree heat after just having ten days off.

Today: not so much.

I arrive at 7:50am to campus #1, pay my seven bucks to park, and remain alone until 8:10. At this point one student ambles in (for our 8am class) and we proceed to chat for ten minutes...twenty minutes...an hour. Since there are only six people on my roster, I assume that the rest of them have decided to skip the first day in true freshman style. It happens, and I decide that I will just see them on Thursday.

So I let the one person go early, and drive to campus #2: a half hour drive that took an hour, due to traffic and detours that have not been applied to TomTom the navigator's world just yet. I became hopeful that at least half of the twenty five expected students would show to my 10:45am class.

As I sit accompanied by a total of one student, I decide something must be happening & email my department. AHA moment: there was a mandatory orientation...during class time. This made me feel better for a minute...maybe two. Then I realized I did see a few cancellation signs on my way past other people's classrooms. Then I thought about the five hours I just spent traveling from home to Newark to Woodbridge. Then I realized I had yet to go to West Paterson because the books I need for tomorrow are not with me.

A whole different dilemma lies in the concept of my office being on a campus I am not working at for the summer...hmm. But I digress, I drive half way there and realize I've been awake over six hours and have eaten a banana and am severely dehydrated. So I fend off dizziness, pull over and heave the banana, and make it at a crawl to a drive thru (which is never a good idea if you normally don't eat fast food) off the Garden State Parking Lot...oh sorry Parkway. At which point I hear a beeping sound that I had missed underneath my blaring Eminem and see that I am out of gas.

OK REALLY?

This is where I would normally cry, but at this point it was so fucking funny (or seemed so due to malnutrition and dehydration and the general sorry state of my physical self these days) that I instead began peering into the rearview mirror thinking, "Am I being filmed? 'Cause this feels like Seinfeld...or The Twilight Zone...or perhaps I'm being Punk'd?"

I am somehow (thankfully) able to get chicken nuggets, diet coke and a water and not lose it on the line that took fifteen minutes for three cars...not exaggerating. As I roll from the drive thru to the blessedly adjoining gas station, I think..."This is Day ONE." Ironically I happen to glance at the car temperature gauge which says 110. Again, not kidding. So I pull over under a tree and eat, rehydrate, and fill up the gas, realizing I've still got twenty more minutes to go getting to the last (third) campus, then eventually can go home...to create new syllabi for tomorrow since mine suddenly feel inadequate...yet again.

Not only does this immediately trigger a teeth grinding episode, I simultaneously remember that I'm not supposed to chew on the left side because yet another filling (done by my previous psychotic dentist/employer) is on it's way out and my real dentist; who is the only one coming near these teeth, is on vacation for a few more days. I have no words for tooth pain. I also had no Advil left because I crunched the last four on the way to campus #1.

So I give up on eating, and head to campus #3 to discover my desk chair is missing, someone is storing miscellaneous motivational art in my closet sized office, and everyone I encounter knew about this orientation situation. Apparently we needed to show up for the "few" (ONE) students that are either repeating the class or not in  their first quarter. All I can do is laugh.

At least my office mate--who I discover sitting in the dark catching up on emails (this may actually be the only way we are not tracked down in our insanely high traffic area) has had a similarly uninformed day. However, said office mate teaches at the campus where everyone is, along with our office and was a bit sooner and more locally informed. At this point, I chat with my other coworkers and thank goodness I at least work with nice people...because if I didn't...well I suppose I'd be job hunting by now.

It all sounds really funny when I look back at this day being that I used to do this ALL the TIME as an adjunct. I usually break the ice (with students who work, go to school, and have kids) in Week 1 by saying how I used to be so busy I literally had my schedule on the visor in the car and would flip it down each morning to see where I had to go...not kidding. I recall teaching six classes at Hunter, and two at Berkeley. Then I recall a haze of a year where I did three at UCC, two at ECC, four at Berkeley and somehow began teaching online??? I am wondering just reading this how that was possible...but I did it.

Suddenly 110 makes me laugh. The fact that I made it to the gas station beats the flats I used to get on the Turnpike frequently. The nuggets beat the liquefied granola bars that lived in the glove box if I even remembered to stash them there. Forget about hydration, I'd be lucky to remember to keep room temperature water in the cup holder for the next day. And if I forgot to bring food with me, well, adjuncts simply don't make enough to swing a mortgage and buy lunches. So I had a brief moment of clarity which led me to a second and then a third realization: thankfulness for dental insurance, and eventually gratitude for the ability to drive to work at all instead of taking PT.

Don't misunderstand me: I really like my job. I love teaching writing to people who think they are not going to learn anything and proving them wrong. I love that I can have a day where I'm able to finish work at 2pm or 12:30 even. I wholeheartedly appreciate all the experience I am gaining that will bring me closer to the next career adventure-whatever it may be. I even enjoy the school I'm at and realize how lucky I am to have a full time position there.

All that said, the fact remains: when stuff goes wrong and you think about how Murphy's Law your day was, you come away with some friggin awesome material.

Read me on PRG!

http://www.powderroomgraffiti.com/feel-it/exercising-my-womanhood.html

Hi All,

The above link is to an article I wrote for Powder Room Graffiti, a super-cool women's website that you should all check out. I will hopefully be writing more for them in the future. Thought I would share-enjoy!

xo
Keri