second-year slacker.

Okay, I've been really bad about updating. But let me just say, second year is kicking my butt, running me over, backing up and running me over again. Things just seem incredibly busy. I love it, but it's exhausting. And I'm writing for a NYC-based website, so I'm trying to get as much work done as I can for them. All this while still struggling with this ridiculous fatigue. It's rare that I don't take at least one nap each day. Which really lowers my productivity. Anyway. We'll see what happens.

I do miss North Carolina. There are days where the homesickness comes over me so quickly I gasp. But it's not a searing pain like last year. Maybe because I am holding out hope of getting a job down there next year? I am craving a Bojangle's chicken biscuit like nobody's business, let me tell you. But for now I will have to make do with Cheerwine.

My classes are amazing. This Tuesday, 2 classmates and I are leading a discussion of ZIPPER MOUTH for my genre class -- and the author is going to be there. Eileen (professor) goes, "oh, by the way, Laurie's a friend of mine, so she'll be joining us." I swear my jaw hit the table. No pressure or anything. but I'm super excited about it -- this is why I came here. I have a wonderful workshop group, and my anti-heroines class is awesome, plus I've been emailing with the author Lidia Yuknavitch about her books, one of which I'm doing a project on for that class. I kind of want to BE Lidia.

I've read some really awesome books lately. Vanessa Veselka's ZAZEN was a book I've been wanting to read for over a year now, and could never find it. My friend Carrie picked it up when she went to Powell's, in Portland, and sent it to me when she was finished. It is the most odd, most lyrical/magical/not-quite-dystopian/off-center book, and I loved it. Something about the writing kept me reading. It's about this girl Della, who had a breakdown in college a few years ago. While working in a cafe, she becomes obsessed with self-immolators, and starts calling in bomb threats to places. Except eventually, the places she once called or imagined calling, start being bombed or attacked. It's hard to explain. But it's worth a read. Wendy Lawless is having her publisher send me a review copy of her memoir that comes out in January, CHANEL BONFIRE. I'm super excited about it and am planning on reviewing it for the Columbia lit mag website. And of course, the newest BEST AMERICAN ESSAYS, 2012 edition. This essay collection is a great thing to read if you're a nonfiction writer. Some alums from Columbia were in the 2011 edition, and every year there's a different guest editor. I have yet to be disappointed in these anthologies.
Sheila Heti is coming to Columbia to lecture (as is AM Homes and Mary Karr - HOW PSYCHED AM I????), so I read her newest book, HOW SHOULD A PERSON BE?. It's gotten rave reviews for being experimental, edgy, genre-bending......and I had to force myself to finish it. It's a novelized memoir of sorts that combines stream of consciousness, playwriting style, etc, and basically explores the question of how should a person be - especially if they are an artist. I don't know. Something about it felt forced and overly self-conscious, almost like Heti made the decisions she did with the idea of being "edgy" in mind. Or being transgressive. Not to mention it felt immensely pretentious and self-absorbed. (Yes, I get that memoirs are generally self-absorbed on principle, but there's a wrong way and a right way of doing it). So I guess I'll go to her lecture, if only to hear this darling of the young literati talk about her process. I just wish I enjoyed her book more. Maybe I'll try her short story collection.

And on another note, my ten year college reunion was this weekend. I'm old.

First week done!

Well, the first week is over. My thursday class, Anti-Heroines, was great, too. I am super excited because the reading list is so kick-ass. Again, I can't believe I have to read these books. Although I'm rereading "Wuthering Heights" right now for the class and am slogging through, tempted to just get Clif Notes. Yes, apparently I still think like a high schooler. But seriously, the classes I have this semester feel different. I don't know if it's simply a function of being a second year, or what, but they feel more like how art school should be. I don't know if I said that in the previous post. The work is intense already, and I am feeling stressed because of thesis, publishing, jobs, etc. Have you ever wanted something that seemed unreachable, so much you could feel every cell in your body wanting it? That's me with writing. For so long I thought it wasn't "practical", so I abandoned it. But now I'm back. 

My nephew's first week (2 days) of kindergarten is done, too. I was so nervous for him. Maybe because every single morning of my kindergarten year, I would beg my mother to let me go to work with her, that I didn't want to go to school.....in my defense, I WAS ONLY FOUR. Gimme some slack. I remember so well pleading with her. But then, like, an hour after she was gone, I was fine. Every. Day.  But Trey? He took it like a little man and didn't even cry. I am so proud of him. I really hope he likes school and that he has friends and does well. He is so tender and sensitive and I hate to think of him dreading to go to school every day, for whatever reason. 

My tremors are getting more noticeable, and worse. Now I have a postural tremor in addition to the intention tremor, which means when I'm standing, my legs shake, just standing up. It gets even worse walking down steps. I'm terrified I'm going to face plant one of these days on Columbia's cement steps. I mean the shaking is noticeable when I'm wearing long pants, even. When I hold my iPhone, I can see it wobbling out of the corner of my eye. When I go to put on a necklace, I have to try repeatedly to clasp it because of the tremors. In class it's become embarassing, because it looks like I'm nervous or in withdrawl. To be honest, I just feel a general weakening. I don't like walking around anymore outside because I get tired so easily and my legs feel wobbly. Like I told my mom, I feel like Bambi. You know, when he tries to stand on his legs and keeps falling? The MRI was clear, I have a vitamin B12 deficiency, but the doctor doesn't know for sure if that's what's causing this. Basically, it feels like a loss of control of my body. I just watch my hands shake and it's ridiculous. 

Anyway......fall is almost here (though you'd never know it, with this heat and humidity). Pumpkin spice lattes are back, I'm eating pumpkin tortelloni, and I'm going to pick up apple cider. The farmers market will start selling the hot cider, too. yum. 

last first day.

Today was my last first day of school as a student. *I think I can hear my family cheering from here.* It's a nice feeling. Scary, but nice. I love how I've managed to combine my medical interests and background with something I've always done and loved, writing. I love the leap of faith I took. It causes me stress and is hard, but I think it will be worth it.

My nephew's first day of kindergarten is Thursday. I am scared and happy for him. I totally understand why parents cry the first day of school - I feel like crying. I know if I were there I'd totally cry. I can't believe he is old enough to finally go to school. Where did the time go? I'm scared because I know how mean kids can be, and Trey doesn't have a mean bone in his body. I hope no one picks on him or is mean to him. He can be really shy around lots of people, which I understand - but I hope it doesn't make him too upset. I hope he doesn't get too overwhelmed with the work, and hope he does well. He gets frustrated easily, but he is so smart. I worry about his heart. I don't want it to break any more than it already has.

And don't even get me started on thinking about kidnappers/safety. I think when I have a child I will be a wreck until they are older.

His going to kindergarten reminds me of the back-to-school shopping lists we used to get - pencil cases, glue sticks, scissors, calculator.....I remember going and picking out my Lisa Frank folders, my Trapper Keepers - had to get just the right one - the right pens, and of course, picking out THE LUNCH BOX. Back in the day, they were plastic and had a matching thermos inside. Do they even have them anymore? It was such a big decision, which lunch box design to choose. I remember one of mine, a pale pink one with a girl picking flowers on it. I don't remember the rest. (Because, naturally, you got a new one every year). To this day, the fall always makes me want to go to Staples or OfficeMax and get school stuff. That, and go to BedBathandBeyond. Such a rite of passage, all those years, getting ready for the year ahead. Parents selecting things for their kid's apartment or dorm, coordinating colors for things, etc. I love this time of year.

just another Saturday morning in the city.

I went to the Strand today for the first time since my aunt died. I only note this because the last time I was there was when I got the phone call that she was in the hospital, and to quote my dad, it was "the beginning of the end." I haven't been back since. Until today.
I know it's a tourist trap. I know it's somewhat kitchy. BUT. BUT. It is Heaven. 18 miles of books. Books from floor to ceiling, marked down in price, some as low as five dollars. Outside, books for $1, $2, and $3. In fact, I got a book I've been wanting for only $1 today. And the writing "seminar" tote for $4. My favorite is the downstairs, where they have the medical books, memoir, literary nonfiction and so forth. I like the tables on the main floor, and I admit, the tote bags are so so so so cute, touristy as they are. The collection of Moleskine notebooks, Anne Taintor wallets and magnets, and cute sarcastic change purses all tempted me. I could spend hours and hours here. In fact, if a guy asked me on a date to the Strand, I think I would ask him to marry me right then and there.
Yes, the employees can sometimes be too cool for school, but today they were fairly nice and helpful. And I don't know what all the reviewers are talking about - everytime I've been in Strand, it's never been uncomfortably busy. Maybe I just tend to go at off-peak times? I've rarely even had to wait in line.

Afterward, I went across the street to The Bean, a very cute coffee place with padded benches and pillows around the perimeter of the store so you can rest comfortably while working at a table. They have delicious looking gluten-free macarons and vegan treats. The baristas aren't obnoxious, and the clientele seems relatively normal and down to earth. The iced coffee with half&half was just what I needed on the walk through Union Square.

So it was a really nice Manhattan morning, I must say. A day where I was happy to be in the city. It's nice to know those days still exist for me. It reminded me of when I used to live in the city before, in 03-04, and would explore downtown 'hoods by myself on the weekends, not thinking twice about it.

In the afternoon I did some work for a new website I'm writing for. It's a NYC-centric website that posts news and reviews of neighborhood venues, area happenings, etc. I'm hoping to get more work done tomorrow on that. Finished up workshop reading and doing some writing of my own.....so I feel pretty productive today. I have been waking up the last two mornings, grinding my teeth, but hopefully that's just temporary, until I feel more settled in.

Also, September is National Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month. Familiarize yourself with the signs and symptoms of ovarian cancer, talk with your doctor about your risk for the disease, and listen to your body. This cancer is a relentless killer, and the majority of women are diagnosed at a late-stage, decreasing survival rates. So wear your teal ribbons, visit the website of Teal Toes, donate to OCRF or the gyn-onc department of MSKCC....something. Anything. Other cancers like breast cancer have done wonders with fundraising and research and political/medical change - this needs to be done for ovarian cancer now.

anticipating the crazy.

Okay....there was quite a hiatus there. I am back in New York - just got here today. I have two new roommates, both from Australia, and they seem really nice. We're all students at the School of the Arts, so this should be interesting. I can't say that it's great to be back - it's hot as hell here, 2 small bags of groceries cost me over $50, and the thought of paying money to do laundry is ripping my heart out. BUT, that being said, I went to the School today to visit a friend of mine who was working in the Writing office, and ran into two other friends. My one friend snagged me a CU SoA tote bag - and lord knows, I can never have enough tote bags. Plus, it's my 100k tote bag. I deserve it, I think. :)

Classes start Tuesday and I already have 120+ pages to read for workshop on Tuesday, plus get my own submission ready. And figure out what I am submitting for the thesis anthology. The anthology that agents and publishers get. argh. I am ready to get back on a schedule, though. I also have a part-time writing job, writing "best of" reviews/articles on places in the city. Ironic, no? And hopefully continue to work for Healthline as needed.

I do feel more at ease than I did last year, which is to be expected, I guess. There's still that self-imposed pressure to DO SOMETHING, BE SOMEONE, PUBLISH LOTS OF STUFF, but at least I know what to expect this year. I am anticipating the crazy.

winding down.

So. I leave Chapel Hill on Thursday to go to my dad's house for a few days. I'll hang out there, pick up some clothes and books I left at his house last year - including my Naot, since I feel guilty for wearing Birkenstocks. We might head to North Myrtle Beach for a day, but who knows. It will be a nice end to my time down South this summer.

The main reason I came to NC was because I desperately needed to get out of the city. It is not good for me to be there, nor is it healthy for me. It can be a lonely, uninviting, isolating place, especially if you've gotten used to a friendly community. I needed to be in open spaces again. In unpretentious environments. Somewhere where I didn't feel self-conscious every time I walked out the door, or sensorily assaulted walking down the street. I needed to return to myself, if that makes sense. Did I miss the friends I made in NY? For sure. I missed them a lot. But it was also nice to just kick back and relax here. I came down here to work and to write. I did both, although less than I'd intended. I got to read a lot. My moods were rocky, I will admit. Whether that's something personal or whether that's just part of a writer's temperament, I'm not entirely sure yet.

But as an MFAer at Columbia, can I (guiltily) tell you that it is SO NICE to be somewhere where people haven't heard of Karen Thompson Walker and her 7-figure advance for her debut book? Where people don't know Junot Diaz or could care less about the new Richard Ford book? There is something refreshing about that. There is something refreshing about a place that takes the NYT book reviews with a grain of salt, but takes pride in displaying North Carolina writers. The lack of pretention is like a cold spray of water on a hot day. I know that when I get back, I will be just as anxious as everyone else, about Thesis Workshop, what the future holds after this year, whether I will ever sell a book, and who in our cohort will make it big. I feel the pressure already, probably much of it self-imposed.

I didn't get to eat ice cream at Maple View, sitting outside on the porch in the rocking chairs, but that's okay. I got to sit outside Southern Village's Weaver St and see my co-op worker friends there. I got to have drinks and dinner with my old coworkers and will be doing that this week again. I had coffee with my running coach, who has become a dear friend. I've spent a lot of time alone, for various reasons. I think it was good for me. Writing can often be a solitary pursuit, and after living in NYC, where you can be lonely but never alone, it was good to actually be alone.

And to end my time in the South, when I get to my dad's, I will be eating the Trifecta of bad-for-you Southern food: CookOut, Sonic, and Bojangles. Gluten be damned - chicken biscuits, hushpuppies, Cheerwine ice cream floats, and other Southern-fried goodness, here I come. Don't worry, I'll take pictures.

life choices.

I don't usually follow this celebrity gossip, and try to refrain from being snarky or judgemental, but I've been reading stuff about Diem Brown, the former MTV Road Rules competitor. And you know, it's stirring up some really strong, conflicting opinions. At the age of 22, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and they removed one ovary and several lymph nodes - if I'm not mistaken, I think it was Stage II. In June, she faced a recurrence of the disease. When she went public, she made a comment on Twitter, saying  she "didn't realize ovarian cancer could come back." Does anyone else find this odd? Didn't her oncologist tell her there could be a chance of recurrence? I mean, that's what follow-up visits are for.
So she is 30 right now, and unmarried, and has already frozen eggs. She is curently postponing surgery and chemotherapy to undergo one more round of fertility medicine and egg harvesting. She feels very strongly about having a biological child, and is willing to take the chance at the risk of delaying treatment.
Okay. I certainly, most definitely understand the desire, the inborn instinct to want biological children. It is so powerful. I'm 31, and it is always on my mind, that my time is running out. But, I also wonder if she'd be so adamant about having a biological child if adoption were seen differently in society. So often, people say they want "their own" children. Adoption or biological, it's *still* "your child." Adoption is too often seen as a back-up, or second best. I don't know. Ovarian cancer is a killer. Is it worth delaying treatment for the chance of having a biological child? Of course, only the individual can make that decision. It's an individual choice. We fought for the right to choose, after all.

But I cannot help but think, what the fuck are you doing? I don't know. If I were diagnosed with a reproductive tract cancer, I would do everything I could to survive, or give myself the best chance or survival. If it meant not having biological children, I'd be fine with adoption. I can't take care of a child, biological or not, if I'm super sick or dead.

I have a friend who had lymphoma in her early twenties, putting her into early menopause. After she got married, they hired a surrogate with a donor egg, but she miscarried. So what did J do? Using her husband's sperm and a donor egg, they implanted a fertilized egg into J's uterus. And she gave birth. Is the child any "less hers" because it's not J's egg? Of course not.

There are many, many ways to become a mother. Is having a biological child worth your health or survival?
That's for you to answer.

more lit snobbery.

So.....litsnob post #2. Sometimes I am amazed at people today. And maybe this is just me - someone who reads probably way too much - but if you work in a bookstore, especially an independent bookstore, you should probably have a wide knowledge of books, no? Especially important ones? I was in an indie bookstore here (not the one I used to work at), and a girl went up to the counter and asked for "Things Fall Apart." The clerk was like, "Things that fall apart? Who's the author?" The girl corrected the clerk, but didn't know the author. I had to stop myself from saying "Chinua Achebe." Sometimes I am not so controlled and jump in when I hear a person not remember an author. It's like instinct for me. But it's like.....I don't know. If you're making books your life, know your books. Or maybe I just want to own a bookstore and read for the rest of my life.
Of course, there was no helping the lady that came in and - I swear to G-d, this is what she asked - said, "I'm looking for a book...the author usually writes short stories but this is a novel....I can't think of her name." Yeah.

In other news, I'm reading a book that is actually challenging me - David Mitchell's "Cloud Atlas." I've been trying to slog through the first part since the end of April. I just got through it today. The first part, not the book. It's an experimental, mixed-genre book that I'm not sure how I feel about yet. But it's not an easy read, which I appreciate. I have stacks of books surrounding me right now, including an ARC of Zadie Smith's upcoming novel, NW, as well as the collected stories of Flannery O'Connor. Part of me just kinda wants to hole up for the rest of the summer, order in meals and read, read, read.
But then there's the little thing called a thesis I have to think about. Yeah. And the nonfiction book seminar at the J-school in the spring. argh. Exciting stuff, but it also gives me a stomachache just thinking about it.

If G-d's not a tar heel, why is the sky Carolina blue?

Finally, more than halfway through my stay here, I am feeling more at home here in Chapel Hill and starting to write again. Maybe it was a bout of existential anxiety/depression, maybe it was just typical Type-A adjustment time. Whatever it was, i'm glad it is ebbing away. Yesterday was a perfect, "I love Chapel Hill" day. Beautiful clear blue sky, not too hot, etc. I went on campus for a little bit, drove around...as beautiful as Columbia is, UNC's campus....no comparison. But of course, they're very different. Perfect example of why I love it here: I was at Caribou Coffee, and I asked the lady sitting next to me if she could watch my stuff for 5 minutes, as I was just running to the restroom. The place was fairly busy, with students doing work, and she said yes. I went up to the women's restroom door, knocked, and tried to open it. The door wouldn't budge. So I went back, and when I sat down, another girl turned to me and said, "That door tends to stick a lot, it's really hard to open, you might want to try it again." And just as she said that, a guy stood up and pushed the door open and looked over at me. I got up and laughed, and was like, does everyone know about the sticking door? He laughed and said, "Only the regulars."
Or how I was at McIntyre's, and we were all making fun of "50 Shades of Grey," and a customer joined our conversation and mentioned how interesting it was, the differing viewpoints and opinions between the 2nd wave and 3rd wave feminists. Which started a whole new conversation.

I was driving down Franklin St yesterday, remembering the first time I drove down that street, five years ago. Hard to believe that I had no idea how this place would get into my blood.

In other thoughts, there's that whole "book snob" and Steven King thing that went on. If you haven't read it, here's the LA Review of Books piece. This is a salon.com piece, supporting King. Now, full disclosure: I've never read a fiction book by King. The only thing I've read of his is his nonfiction book, "On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft." Which I thought was very good. This debate is exactly what I mean when I say literary versus commercial. This is what I mean when I say Columbia is literary. And while I agree with some points in the LARB piece, like how much of what is published is just really poor writing, I found the article to be really pretentious and obnoxious. I mean, we all have our tastes. This guy loves David Foster Wallace, whom I find to be incredibly pompous. I just didn't see the point in lambasting King and touting his booksnobbery. Who the fuck cares? Read what you want to read. You can't read Great Books all the time. Sometimes you need something light. Sure, we all buy The New Yorker and carry it around, and maybe - maybe - some of us even read it. I know the only time I really read and enjoy it is when Jerome Groopman or Atul Gawande writes something. But I also just as easily love Vogue and US Weekly and Garden & Gun.
Which made me wonder.....as MFA students, are we inherently book snobs? Are we being taught to be so? How does the definition of "literary" evolve, and what writers today are in the midst of changing it?  Why does my program not offer any courses on YA writing or genre writing? (also, side note, why is there a lack of Southern literature/Southern writers? I mean, Hurston, Welty, O'Connor, Faulkner....but that's a whole other blog post). Lots to think about.

Reading: On the Road (The Original Scroll) by Jack Kerouac; The Boy in the Moon by Ian Brown
Listening: The Decemberists, Eisley, Guster, Chris Pureka, Neko Case

growing pains.

So. Slowly.....verrrrrry slowwwlly, my writer's block is getting smaller. I've been pushing up against it and have managed to at least get ink on the page, which is more than I've been able to do most of the summer so far. I have been reading a lot. And good writers read. A lot. (Columbia believes this, too, which is why our reading lists are so crazy). It's taken me a bit to really get settled in, and I think I'm only really starting to get back to "normal" here. Up until now, i've almost felt...out of place, oddly. I've made the boundries of my life here very small, and haven't done many of the things I wanted to. I think I needed to establish a routine and just get back in the groove. I went to an indie bookstore here in Chapel Hill the other day to sell back some books, and the girl there remembered me, that I worked at McIntyre's. (We had gone to dinner with the Random House reps and authors last July and had a wonderful night). She remembered my name and asked how my program was going. I was stunned that she remembered. But that's what happens here. I got into a long conversation with the coffee guy at Weaver Street about the pro-choice buttons on his apron that said "I (heart) Pro-Choice Girls" and "I (heart) Pro-Choice Boys." People remember "regulars" and so forth, and it's just really nice. It makes me feel good that I can walk into Fleet Feet or Weaver St or B&N or Flyleaf, and be remembered and able to have really great conversations. It makes me feel like I belong here. That I have a life. But in several weeks, I am leaving again....and the cycle of adjusting will repeat itself in New York.

For better or worse, I've been feeling very "artist-y" lately. I went to the Bead Store on Monday and made my own version of the Tibetan Prayer Beads, since mine are in NYC. It's kind of like, while you pray or meditate, you hold the beads and roll them. I imagine it's sort of like a rosary? Although I'm not really sure what you do with a rosary. I collaged a composition book, like I used to do, and have just been a bit more...relaxed than I usually am up North. Not as tightly wound.

In other news, does anyone know anything about arthritis? Ever since late April, it's come and gone, this aching in my wrists, where I need to bend them and roll them, almost stretch them. Same with my arms and fingers. I'm sure I look ridiculous flexing and bending my knuckles, but I have to. Is this arthritis? Or simply aging?

Books I've Read Lately 
A Good Hard Look by Ann Napolitano. This is a novel about Flannery O'Connor, the celebrated Southern writer. I've only read her nonfiction, oddly, since she's best known for her fiction, but I loved this book. By the end of it, I was thinking that we would have gotten along well if I'd lived back then.

Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend by Matthew Dicks. This book comes out in August, and is told from the viewpoint of a 5-year old imaginary friend of an 8-year old. The 8 year old sounds like he is autistic, and eventually, he is faced with danger and only his imaginary friend can save him. Wonderful book that really was whimsical and well-written. I think it'll appeal to readers of all ages - older readers will get more out of it.

In my pile: Faery Tale by Signe Pike, A Million Little Pieces by James Frey (yes, THAT book), A Mango-Shaped Space by Wendy Mass....and tons of others. Definitely using this summer time to cram as much as I can into my head, book-wise.

Listening to: The Decemberists, Birdy, Eisley, Neko Case