Taking a breath.
Is it a bad thing that I view prepping for Dream Visions as my reward for writing up my workshopping notes? The studying is incredibly satisfying. I could spend a lot of time reading Chaucer, unpacking each poem layer by layer, following references and theories down this rabbit hole or that. Given an infinite amount of time and an external incentive to do so, I could do this for years -- even Chaucer alone, not to mention Fanny Burney and Borges and all the other authors I would like to explore -- which I suppose is the attraction of MAs and PhDs.
Writing has to happen, and pronto. My first workshop story is due a week from today, and at this point, I have only a sketchy notion of what I am going to do about that.
I have the go-ahead from the professor of the Dream Visions class to do a creative work as a final project for that. I am no fan of writing scholarly papers, as everyone knows who suffered with me through my previous stab at an MFA, a few years back; but it's not from an unwillingness to do the work. This will require all the research and all the thinking that a traditional paper would, and then it will have to make sense as a story. And then, even for a woman addicted to style, the voice will be a challenge (but what a delicious one!), and that will mean iteration after iteration.
Good think I like that sort of thing. --Is the theory.
So, school itself -- prepping and being in classes -- has been wonderful. Everything else has been a challenge. Moving across country is always this, more so when one is without an actual address for seven weeks, and navigating the start-up challenges of a new life. It is all settling down, and I know that there will be a new status quo within a week or two. Frankly, I can't imagine what tranquility will feel like. Am I being such a good student because it's the only part of my life that I feel control over?
My Seattle friends will fall on the ground and twitch when I say this, but I have loved the weather, even the hottest days. The sun is painfully fierce, but in the shade the air feels velvety and the little breezes are like ribbons against my skin. I was in a lot of pain for the first weeks, as every joint and ligament came to terms with the new environment, but that's mostly gone now: everything settles into its new patterns and expectations and my ankles become inexhaustible again. I wonder what it will be like as we move into winter. I can't even imagine what that looks like here: my experiences have all been of places where it is bitterly cold or rain-soaked or both.
I was sick all last week, so I didn't climb. I'll go on Friday, and then next week, as soon as I get my student loan, I'll think about what's next for that. Everything wants to stretch and start working again, but I don't know yet what it is my body is craving. Those of you snickering like eleven-year-olds can stop now.
Writing has to happen, and pronto. My first workshop story is due a week from today, and at this point, I have only a sketchy notion of what I am going to do about that.
I have the go-ahead from the professor of the Dream Visions class to do a creative work as a final project for that. I am no fan of writing scholarly papers, as everyone knows who suffered with me through my previous stab at an MFA, a few years back; but it's not from an unwillingness to do the work. This will require all the research and all the thinking that a traditional paper would, and then it will have to make sense as a story. And then, even for a woman addicted to style, the voice will be a challenge (but what a delicious one!), and that will mean iteration after iteration.
Good think I like that sort of thing. --Is the theory.
So, school itself -- prepping and being in classes -- has been wonderful. Everything else has been a challenge. Moving across country is always this, more so when one is without an actual address for seven weeks, and navigating the start-up challenges of a new life. It is all settling down, and I know that there will be a new status quo within a week or two. Frankly, I can't imagine what tranquility will feel like. Am I being such a good student because it's the only part of my life that I feel control over?
My Seattle friends will fall on the ground and twitch when I say this, but I have loved the weather, even the hottest days. The sun is painfully fierce, but in the shade the air feels velvety and the little breezes are like ribbons against my skin. I was in a lot of pain for the first weeks, as every joint and ligament came to terms with the new environment, but that's mostly gone now: everything settles into its new patterns and expectations and my ankles become inexhaustible again. I wonder what it will be like as we move into winter. I can't even imagine what that looks like here: my experiences have all been of places where it is bitterly cold or rain-soaked or both.
I was sick all last week, so I didn't climb. I'll go on Friday, and then next week, as soon as I get my student loan, I'll think about what's next for that. Everything wants to stretch and start working again, but I don't know yet what it is my body is craving. Those of you snickering like eleven-year-olds can stop now.