workshop blues.

Well. Things are going better here. I don't actively hate NYC every minute of every day; sometimes I even enjoy walking around my Upper West Side neighborhood. I like getting exercise without meaning to, and a falafel place nearby, and Pinkberry.....but it still, in my heart of hearts, doesn't beat Carolina.

I had my first workshopping experience this past Wednesday. I gave two pieces to my workshop group the week before, and they critique it. How we usually do it is this: we talk about what we liked first, then give our criticisms. Well, she asked about my pieces.....and no one said a thing. NO ONE. Really? You mean to tell me no one liked parts of it, or my voice, or a line or two? It was like pulling fucking teeth. It was excruciating to sit through. It was good to hear the criticisms and read them - too general, need more detail, etc etc - they're right. But it was the way it was handled that completely destroyed my morale. I came home, never wanting to write again. Somewhere deep in my heart I knew I couldn't suck completely; Columbia wouldn't have given me all this money if I were really terrible. But it was just so disheartening and demoralizing. I haven't written anything since then, and am gripped with anxiety every time I sit down to write. I don't even want to write anything personal or dear to my heart for next workshop, for fear it will be torn to shreds. And now I'm paralyzed when I go to write, thinking I'm not doing it right, that I suck, etc.

I know I need to push through this, that MFA programs are meant to weed people out. And if your writing doesn't hurt you when ripped apart, it's probably a piece of shit to begin with. But I guess I wasn't prepared for it.

They say revision is the best revenge...

still in NY.

My second week of classes is over. I love them. Like everyone has said, this is an academically rigorous program. Not only do they emphasize writing, but they heavily emphasize reading. It is a little overwhelming, I admit, but I think I can do it. I'm just struggling to find that balance of school/work/relax. Walking onto campus, I am always struck at just how beautiful it is. And how lucky I am to be there.

That being said, I'm still very homesick for NC. I was in Butler Library today, which is the main undergrad library here - it's one of the main buildings on campus, right in the middle, with gigantic Grecian columns. Inside it is a distinguished mix of marble and chrome and tile, with glazed wooden desks in book-lined study rooms. Very "Dead Poets Society." I used to love Butler. And to some extent, I still do. I've always found comfort in books. But today, a gray and dreary day, I could not find a book. The stacks - floors and floors and floors of endless rows of books - were overwhelming, and my eyes filled up with tears so fast I couldn't stop it. I felt completely lost. Even books brought me no solace. Then I went to the coffee shop in the library to get a ginger ale, and paid with my debit card. After the transaction was done, I thought she'd give me my receipt, so I stood there. She looked up and was like, WHAT? I patiently asked for a receipt and she rolled her eyes, gave a big sigh, and made a big deal of straightening up her register before giving me my receipt. I just felt like saying, "There's no need to be so mean."

I was in the school store the other day, which is a B&N store, and went over to the sports section, thinking I'd browse through a Carolina basketball book. None. There were NO Carolina basketball books. Not even the classic Duke-NC rivalry book "To Hate Like This is to be Happy Forever." (Which I originally bought in NJ, not down South). I was shocked. Like, seriously. I stood there, dumbfounded that not a single Carolina basketball book was there. I mean, Carolina IS college basketball.

So yeah...it will be 3 weeks tomorrow that I'm in NY (not that I'm counting or anything), and still having a major adjustment. I still can't get over the cost of living here. It's absurd. I don't even know if I took enough money out for each semester to live on. I don't know how people do it anymore.

leavin' on a jet plane.

For the first time since moving here, I'm really happy. Why? Because I just booked my ticket to North Carolina for October. *sigh*.

I love my classes. I love school. Why aren't I loving NY? Why is this such an adjustment this time? I'm not sure, and it's something I think about daily. I mean, it's in front of me every day.

Anyway. Now I have something to look forward to.

stranger in a strange land.

I started my classes this week, and I love them. Love, love, love. Columbia's program is different than most MFAs, because it requires you to complete 60 credits, whereas many other programs have as little as 36 or so. The program is known for being academically rigorous, and it hasn't disappointed. I am taking one workshop, 2 seminars and 1 lecture, with a book to read each week for the seminars and lecture. So basically, 3 books a week, plus workshopping, plus any writing assignments. Kind of overwhelming, but I like an academic challenge. My cohort is really great, and I think it's going to be an interesting semester and I will learn a lot.

That being said, still not loving NY. I was lying awake in my bed last night up until 3 am - and around 2 am there was a lovely car alarm that went off for a good 8-10 minutes. Which is a really long time, actually. I just.....can't get used to living like this. I'm constantly hyped up, because everyone moves fast. If I have one more rude cashier that ignores my hello, I think I'm going to snap. If I were having a bad day in Carolina and went out for the day, it would be impossible not to take note of some kindness from the general community. Having a bad day here? It likely gets worse when I leave the apt. Down South, if you were waiting for your Starbucks drink, or in an elevator, conversations would be started, and usually you'd end up laughing and wishing the person a good day. My first day of classes, I was in the elevator with 2 people (not Writing people) and I joked about the torrential rains and being soaking wet as a first impression. Nothing. I wished both of them a good day as I left the elevator, nothing. I never, ever expected this. I used to love NY. I knew it would be a change, but I never expected to feel like I don't belong in this city. But that's how I feel. I feel like I belong in the program, but not in the city. And that's really hard every day.

Joan Didion and NY

I've always loved Joan Didion's writing. It started when I got her book The Year of Magical Thinking, years ago. I loved her style of writing - crisp, honest, sarcastic at times - so much that I sought out her other books, and eventually got her book of collected nonfiction, We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live. I was pretty happy to see this book on one of my class reading lists this semester. Didion has written lines like, "...All I knew then was what I couldn't do. All I knew then was what I wasn't, and it took me some years to discover what I was. Which was a writer. By which I mean not a 'good' writer or 'bad' writer, but simply a writer, a person whose most absorbed and passionate hours are spent arranging words on a piece of paper...." One of her more well-known essays is one called "Goodbye to All That." It is an essay about falling in and then out of love with New York. Although she must have fallen back in love with it at some point, because she lives here now. I wish I could reprint the whole thing for you. I have been reading and rereading it. This adjustment period to NY is hard. It is hard to love a place that seems very desperate, very lonely. Human connection is not so readily available on the streets here as it is in other places. When I was coming back from the store, a woman was walking her dog. I looked up at her and smiled, because that's what you did in NC, waiting for her to say hi, and it turned out she wasn't even looking at me, she was staring at the concrete. At the store, the cashiers can't get you out fast enough. Not a response to my "Hello," not a smile as you leave, nothing. How did this happen to us? When did this become the norm here?

Here is some of Didion's essay:

"It is easy to see the beginning of things, and harder to see the ends. I can remember now, with a clarity that makes the nerves in the back of my neck constrict, when New York began for me, but I cannot lay my finger upon the moment it ended, can never cut through the ambiguities and second starts and broken resolves to the exact place on the page where the heroine is no longer as optimistic as she once was....All I mean is that I was very young in New York, and that at some point the golden rhythm was broken, and I am not that young anymore...."

It's funny, 3 years ago when I lived here, I didn't sense this unease with the city. Was it because I knew I was going back to Chapel Hill in 8 weeks? Was it because I was younger, and had only lived in Carolina for a year? I don't know. Maybe a combination of all of those things. I don't know how long it will take me to become acclimated here once again. Even something as simple as browsing the Craigslist ads for nannies; how different the two experiences were. Here, you can practically hear the entitlement coming off the screen in the posts. Maybe I'm cranky because of lack of sleep. Every night and every morning, I am kept awake or woken up by outside noise. At night, it's blaring music and people shouting; in the morning it is the trash truck, car alarms or some other large truck coming down the street. And because I have no a/c, my window is open. Good times. I can't wait for cold weather.

At any rate, I'm here, and need to learn some way to live in this city.

(dis)Orientation

So. The first two days of the MFA program are done. These 2 days were orientation; yesterday was the Writing Program orientation, and today was a School of the Arts-wide orientation. Yesterday, I met my cohort, all of whom seem really nice. There's about 22 or 23 CNFers. The professors all seem warm, engaging, approchable, and like they really want to help us. I can't describe it, but it's something you can feel when you're in the department. It was kind of amazing, sitting in Low Library, with most of the professors sitting in front of you, each one getting up and telling you what they did on their summer vacations. It was like, oh yeah, that's Sam Lipsyte. Read his book this summer. Oh, look, Stacey D'Erasmo. Read one of her books too. Oh, hi, Lauren Grodstein. Yup, read yours as well. Oh, Rivka Galchen, one of the New Yorker's 20 Under 40. Hello there. It was just amazing. Blew my mind. But they were all real people. They admitted to not having written over the summer, or admitted that they wrote shitty pieces over the summer, and knew it. It was refreshing to hear.

I have to be honest, I wasn't giddy with excitement beforehand. Grad school kind of loses its novelty after the first time around. But afterwards, I was excited. I felt like....I was doing what I was born to do, as crazy as that might sound. It's different than the feeling of doing something you like, or even love. It's unexplainable. At least right now.

Today, at the SoA orientation, they really emphasized getting to know each other across disciplines, because this will help us network in the future. Actors need directors who need producers who need writers, and so forth. They really, really emphasized the connections piece. And expressed that they were committed to helping us all succeed at making a living in the arts.

It's been an overwhelming 2 days. I'm exhausted. I got my books, and I will be reading 3 books a week, plus whatever I have to read for workshop. Thinking about that is kind of crazy. How will I find the time to do this?

I still am not in love with NY. It's not winning me over, not by far. I miss Chapel Hill so much, I miss NC. I miss my coworkers. I don't like feeling hyped up all the time like I am here. I don't like the noise and the brusqueness and the sensory over-stimulation. It's all too much. Going outside and getting out of my apartment, even for a few hours, knocks me over with its intensity, and I feel like I have to recharge and stay at home, in silence, reading or writing. Maybe I just need to adjust more. But I don't like the lack of community I feel here. I'm not talking about Columbia - there is a strong feeling of community at SoA, in my opinion - I'm talking about NY. Maybe this will change as 9/11 gets closer, but it's a completely different feeling here. The lack of connection irks me. People don't have time for it. We're all these bouncy balls, each of us our own sphere, just ricocheting off each other. With all the armor people wear up here, it's hard to truly touch another person.

Do I believe the program will be worth the money that I am taking out? Without a doubt. Yesterday showed me that. I have opportunities here that I don't think I would have anywhere else. Do I believe I made the right choice, deciding to go to Columbia? Yes. I am so incredibly grateful that I have this opportunity, and so thankful that I got here, despite my refusing multiple times. The opportunity to do nothing but read and write for the next 2 years blows my mind. It doesn't feel real.

I just need to find my place in NY, to find my routine and make my (temporary) home.