The header says it all. It's officially Take Your Novel to Work Week. Gonna. Get. It. DONE!
That's all.
That's all.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Hello Knitting!
For some reason, knitting has taken a backseat in my life this last year. I think this is in part to the incredibly challenging year I had balancing teaching with college guidance work. Partly because I'm in love (and no, I have not knit for him. I believe in the sweater curse....), and lastly I've felt uninspired. But then people I know started having babies (lots of babies, like four people impregnated in the last year...must be something in the water). Of the four people we/I know, I've knit for approximately 1 baby. Needless to say, I'm far behind. To get out of my knitting slump, I went to my LYS Lovelyarns in Hampden and asked if I could teach a class.
First, let me say that I love this shop. It reminds me of the places back in Iowa City where I spent so much of my time (and money). The people who shop there are wonderful, the owner, Sue, is awesome, and it's exactly the kind of place where you would want to sit for a few hours and knit.
Sue agreed to let me teach and voila! I'm knitting again! And I'm remembering how much I loved to knit in the first place. My class is over but I'm still knitting. I had amazing students (One brought muffins. MUFFINS!) and we had a great time. I'm teaching the class again in September and with any luck I'll be teaching a Fair Isle class come winter timer.
I have some knitting goals: Finish three baby sweaters (one for my niece, one for Jen and Patrick's baby, and one for Alyssa and Jay's baby). I need a warm weather knitted item for a Baby Waika in Los Angeles. It must be uber-fashionable because he lives in L.A. and babies there are incredibly fashionable. I also need to finish a scarf I began making two weeks ago and a scarf I started two years ago....I'll post pictures when they're all complete. I'm working on three of these at once but it's nice to move back and forth. Keeps the knitting love alive!
First, let me say that I love this shop. It reminds me of the places back in Iowa City where I spent so much of my time (and money). The people who shop there are wonderful, the owner, Sue, is awesome, and it's exactly the kind of place where you would want to sit for a few hours and knit.
Sue agreed to let me teach and voila! I'm knitting again! And I'm remembering how much I loved to knit in the first place. My class is over but I'm still knitting. I had amazing students (One brought muffins. MUFFINS!) and we had a great time. I'm teaching the class again in September and with any luck I'll be teaching a Fair Isle class come winter timer.
I have some knitting goals: Finish three baby sweaters (one for my niece, one for Jen and Patrick's baby, and one for Alyssa and Jay's baby). I need a warm weather knitted item for a Baby Waika in Los Angeles. It must be uber-fashionable because he lives in L.A. and babies there are incredibly fashionable. I also need to finish a scarf I began making two weeks ago and a scarf I started two years ago....I'll post pictures when they're all complete. I'm working on three of these at once but it's nice to move back and forth. Keeps the knitting love alive!
Monday, June 11, 2012
New Publication!
Hello Friends. I realize I've been away for a long time. Long story short: I'm still with the Airman. I'm still employed. I'm still hacking away at my novel (not so much during the school year but I'm looking forward to finishing it this summer).
I have a new story up over at Frontier Psychiatrist. I'm really proud to be part of this online journal. The story is full of my favorite things: sex, wine, and Cape Cod.
Enjoy.
I have a new story up over at Frontier Psychiatrist. I'm really proud to be part of this online journal. The story is full of my favorite things: sex, wine, and Cape Cod.
Enjoy.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Too. Much. Food.
I went overboard last Saturday when I went grocery shopping. I always do when i go the day after I get paid. I feel oddly rich and I want to spend (Note: I am perpetually broke and my car needs work so it's only going to get worse). I went to town at Trader Joe's and then made my way over to the local shitty grocery for the things I couldn't get.
See, I had a plan. Dinners and lunches for the week and beyond! But it never really works that way. At least not in my world.
I've got:
Gingery pork and lightly pickled cucumbers (is that a thing?) that should go in a pita.
Leftover asparagus risotto
Chicken Chili
Pizza dough and prosciutto
All cooked (not the pizza dough but how long will it last?).
And I have an Airman who doesn't really like leftovers (He says he does, but I don't really believe it. Okay, sometimes he does.).
AND I still have a beef brisket that NEEDS to go in the oven or crock-pot like now. Or tomorrow when I remember to go buy potatoes.
I know, I know. First world problems.
See, I had a plan. Dinners and lunches for the week and beyond! But it never really works that way. At least not in my world.
I've got:
Gingery pork and lightly pickled cucumbers (is that a thing?) that should go in a pita.
Leftover asparagus risotto
Chicken Chili
Pizza dough and prosciutto
All cooked (not the pizza dough but how long will it last?).
And I have an Airman who doesn't really like leftovers (He says he does, but I don't really believe it. Okay, sometimes he does.).
AND I still have a beef brisket that NEEDS to go in the oven or crock-pot like now. Or tomorrow when I remember to go buy potatoes.
I know, I know. First world problems.
The Blues
I don't have the Blues but I recently read Sonny's Blues by James Baldwin for the first time in a really long time. The re-read was prompted by the fact that I'm currently teaching it to my 9th graders. I remember feeling a kind of sadness the first time I read it but it doesn't compare with all the emotions I felt this time around. I actually sat in my office and cried. Real human tears. It was a combination of things that tugged at that tiny heart of mine.
This is the passage that struck me the most. I had to read it two or three times to really process the beauty of the writing and (what I think are) the meaning behind the words.
"This was the last time I ever saw my mother alive. Just the same, this picture gets all mixed up in my mind with pictures I had other when she was younger. The way I always see her is the way she used to be on a Sunday afternoon, say, when the old folks were talking after the big Sunday dinner. I always see her wearing pale blue. She'd be sitting on the sofa. And my father would be sitting in the easy chair, not far from her. And the living room would be full of church folks and relatives. There they sit, in chairs all around the living room, and the night is creeping up outside, but nobody knows it yet. You can see the darkness growing against the windowpanes and you hear the street noises every now and again, or maybe the jangling beat of a tambourine from one of the churches close by, but it's real quiet in the room. For a moment nobody's talking, but every face looks darkening, like the sky outside. And my mother rocks a little from the waist, and my father's eyes are closed. Everyone is looking at something a child can't see. For a minute they've forgotten the children. Maybe a kid is lying on the rug, half asleep. Maybe somebody's got a kid in his lap and is absent-mindedly stroking the lad's head. Maybe there's a kid, quiet and big-eyed, curled up in a big chair in the comer. The silence, the darkness coming, and the darkness in the faces frighten the child obscurely. He hopes that the hand which strokes his forehead will never stop-will never die. He hopes that there will never come a time when the old folks won't be sitting around the living room, talking about where they've come from, and what they've seen, and what's happened to them and their kinfolk.
But something deep and watchful in the child knows that this is bound to end, is already ending. In a moment someone will get up and turn on the light. Then the old folks will remember the children and they won't talk any more that day. And when light fills the room, the child is filled with darkness. He knows that every time this happens he's moved just a little closer to that darkness outside. The darkness outside is what the old folks have been talking about. It's what they've come from. It's what they endure. The child knows that they won't talk any more because if he knows too much about what's happened to them, he'll know too much too soon, about what's going to happen to him."
Godfuckingdamn. This made me weep. And it made me want to be a better writer. It made me remember why I wanted to become a writer in the first place. I could feel the tears coming after the first read but by the third, I was done. I wasn't even sure I could talk about it with the kids.
To get my kids started on discussing this story I had them listen to Strange Fruit by Nina Simone and So What by Miles Davis. Now I do love Nina but truth be told I've never been an instrumental jazz fan. But I think that's about to change....Back to the important stuff. So the kids listened to the music and I asked them to write down what they were feeling as the music played. When I asked them to share a lot of them gave me images they saw rather than feelings. When they were done I pointed out what they had said and then I asked them to try again to think about how they felt. What they said was rather personal so I won't re-post, but it was interesting. What was also interesting came later, today, in fact. We were continuing our conversation about the story, mostly what they thought was the meaning behind all the mentions of darkness and light. I also asked them to tell me what they liked most about the story. Many of them related that they liked the way family was portrayed. "Don't let your brother fall," really resonated with a lot of them especially the ones with younger siblings. They also liked that there was a feeling of hopefulness at the end and that the two brothers had come to an understanding.
Class the last two days has been really interesting. Tomorrow we wrap up Sonny's Blues and move on to some Andrea Lee (YAY!!)
Also, I don't have the blues but I am ready for the weekend.
This is the passage that struck me the most. I had to read it two or three times to really process the beauty of the writing and (what I think are) the meaning behind the words.
"This was the last time I ever saw my mother alive. Just the same, this picture gets all mixed up in my mind with pictures I had other when she was younger. The way I always see her is the way she used to be on a Sunday afternoon, say, when the old folks were talking after the big Sunday dinner. I always see her wearing pale blue. She'd be sitting on the sofa. And my father would be sitting in the easy chair, not far from her. And the living room would be full of church folks and relatives. There they sit, in chairs all around the living room, and the night is creeping up outside, but nobody knows it yet. You can see the darkness growing against the windowpanes and you hear the street noises every now and again, or maybe the jangling beat of a tambourine from one of the churches close by, but it's real quiet in the room. For a moment nobody's talking, but every face looks darkening, like the sky outside. And my mother rocks a little from the waist, and my father's eyes are closed. Everyone is looking at something a child can't see. For a minute they've forgotten the children. Maybe a kid is lying on the rug, half asleep. Maybe somebody's got a kid in his lap and is absent-mindedly stroking the lad's head. Maybe there's a kid, quiet and big-eyed, curled up in a big chair in the comer. The silence, the darkness coming, and the darkness in the faces frighten the child obscurely. He hopes that the hand which strokes his forehead will never stop-will never die. He hopes that there will never come a time when the old folks won't be sitting around the living room, talking about where they've come from, and what they've seen, and what's happened to them and their kinfolk.
But something deep and watchful in the child knows that this is bound to end, is already ending. In a moment someone will get up and turn on the light. Then the old folks will remember the children and they won't talk any more that day. And when light fills the room, the child is filled with darkness. He knows that every time this happens he's moved just a little closer to that darkness outside. The darkness outside is what the old folks have been talking about. It's what they've come from. It's what they endure. The child knows that they won't talk any more because if he knows too much about what's happened to them, he'll know too much too soon, about what's going to happen to him."
Godfuckingdamn. This made me weep. And it made me want to be a better writer. It made me remember why I wanted to become a writer in the first place. I could feel the tears coming after the first read but by the third, I was done. I wasn't even sure I could talk about it with the kids.
To get my kids started on discussing this story I had them listen to Strange Fruit by Nina Simone and So What by Miles Davis. Now I do love Nina but truth be told I've never been an instrumental jazz fan. But I think that's about to change....Back to the important stuff. So the kids listened to the music and I asked them to write down what they were feeling as the music played. When I asked them to share a lot of them gave me images they saw rather than feelings. When they were done I pointed out what they had said and then I asked them to try again to think about how they felt. What they said was rather personal so I won't re-post, but it was interesting. What was also interesting came later, today, in fact. We were continuing our conversation about the story, mostly what they thought was the meaning behind all the mentions of darkness and light. I also asked them to tell me what they liked most about the story. Many of them related that they liked the way family was portrayed. "Don't let your brother fall," really resonated with a lot of them especially the ones with younger siblings. They also liked that there was a feeling of hopefulness at the end and that the two brothers had come to an understanding.
Class the last two days has been really interesting. Tomorrow we wrap up Sonny's Blues and move on to some Andrea Lee (YAY!!)
Also, I don't have the blues but I am ready for the weekend.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Reading Challenge Update
It just occurred to me that I have already (nearly) failed my own reading challenge. I'm already behind--I have about 50 pages left of The Yiddish Policeman's Union and I only just started Super Sad True Love Story. I'm going to do my best to finish Yiddish tonight that way I'm only half a failure.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Hearing Yourself
This morning I went looking for a recording of Tobias Wolff reading Bullet in the Brain. We had discussed it last night in my creative writing workshop at George Washington University. I thought maybe the Workshop had recorded the event as part of Live from Prairie Lights. Sadly, they hadn't. I did however find this: a reading I gave in Iowa back during my second year. So weird to hear myself. You absolutely don't have to listen but it was kind of a treat to find this recording from my past. Here it.
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