Before I start writing this, let me put a pre-emptive statement out there - especially for my anonymous friend who writes such heartfelt comments - I'd really love to address you by name one day. This is not a "poor me" pity post. Far from it. It's an "I'm kind of struggling right now with everyone else along in my cohort but that's where we're supposed to be maybe...." I'm not quite sure what it is, but it's not a pity party. That I know for sure.
Walking in the halls and sitting in the classrooms of the writing program, there are framed posters of collages of book covers of books published by graduates of the program. Seventies, eighties, nineties. Who knew that the Jennifer Aniston movie "The Object of My Affection" was based on a book from an alum? Not me. "Clockers?" Nope. Then there's the more literary ones, like the one about Rwanda, "We Wish to Inform you that Tomorrow We will Be Killed With Our Families." Then there are the quiet ones I've read and loved: "Ithaka," "The Cure for Grief," "Atmospheric Disturbances," and Alexandra Styron's book about her father. Depending on the mood I'm in, these can be either inspiring and reassuring, or they can be mocking and pressuring.
To whom much is given, much is expected. I know this well. And I usually don't disappoint. I have faith - ridiculous, blind, wondrous, childlike, full-fledged faith - that this decision was a good one. This was actually maybe the first decision in my entire life that I made completely on blind faith. And the first day I hold a review copy of my book in my hands, I'll run my fingers over the cover and remember the anguish and nervousness of finally accepting the ofer and the naysayers telling me it was a mistake. If it's a JK Rowling blockbuster, awesome. If it's a quieter, cult-like followed book, great. But no one can take it away from me. Even if one person reads it.
It's just hard to remember that when you're in the muck of reading 3 books this week that you haven't even looked at, critiquing workshop pieces and getting yours ready, figuring out what your thesis is really going to look like, applying for jobs and summer writing conferences, paying medical bills, and dealing with this damn tremor. I just have to *breathe.* In. Out. In. Out. Repeat on a continuous basis.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Monday, February 4, 2013
20 Under 40, live.
I'm taking a science writing class this semester, which I am very excited about. Each week we read a book, talk about it for the first hour, and then the second hour, the author comes and we get to ask him/her questions about writing the book, the book itself, the process, etc. Our first author came today. The book was on superstring theory and hidden dimensions and it all went over my head, but Rivka assured me this was the hardest book we'd read all semester.
Rivka is our teacher. She is one of the reasons I am so excited about the class. Besides her artist-hipster clothes that would look ridiculous on me but somehow fit together perfectly on her, she was picked as one of the The New Yorker's "20 Under 40" in 2010. Other people picked were Chris Adrian, Tea Obrecht, Nell Freudenberger, ZZ Packer, Karen Russell, Sarah Shun-lien Bynum, Dinaw Mengestu, and Wells Tower. Columbia MFA graduates accounted for a fifth of the people chosen, only surpassed by Iowa. I remember reading about Rivka in Time Out New York - she caught my eye because something about her father being Israeli maybe? I don't remember, but I do remember reading that not only did she have her MFA, but also her MD. Turns out she didn't really like medicine, but that's not my story to tell. I know they're all fiction writers, and they don't really do things like this for nonfiction writers, but goddamn, what an accomplishment, no? I remember getting off the phone with the person who called me to let me know I got into Columbia, running upstairs, and picking the book of the 20 Under 40 and thinking, holyshitholyshitholyshit. But anyway. Let me just say this: she is down to earth, very cool, but not untouchable cool. She was in school with Nellie, which is also neat. She is just one of those people whom I want to sit down and ask, how do you get this way? How do you pick out your clothes and combine them? Because I don't think I could pull it off. Her book is called Atmospheric Disturbances, and I know I read it years ago, but I need a refresher. I always like reading books that my teachers have written so I get a better sense of them.
For next week we have to read a graphic novel about Marie Curie, which should be very awesome. This is one of those classes where I realize how lucky and blessed I am, and how thankful I took this risk to be here.
Rivka is our teacher. She is one of the reasons I am so excited about the class. Besides her artist-hipster clothes that would look ridiculous on me but somehow fit together perfectly on her, she was picked as one of the The New Yorker's "20 Under 40" in 2010. Other people picked were Chris Adrian, Tea Obrecht, Nell Freudenberger, ZZ Packer, Karen Russell, Sarah Shun-lien Bynum, Dinaw Mengestu, and Wells Tower. Columbia MFA graduates accounted for a fifth of the people chosen, only surpassed by Iowa. I remember reading about Rivka in Time Out New York - she caught my eye because something about her father being Israeli maybe? I don't remember, but I do remember reading that not only did she have her MFA, but also her MD. Turns out she didn't really like medicine, but that's not my story to tell. I know they're all fiction writers, and they don't really do things like this for nonfiction writers, but goddamn, what an accomplishment, no? I remember getting off the phone with the person who called me to let me know I got into Columbia, running upstairs, and picking the book of the 20 Under 40 and thinking, holyshitholyshitholyshit. But anyway. Let me just say this: she is down to earth, very cool, but not untouchable cool. She was in school with Nellie, which is also neat. She is just one of those people whom I want to sit down and ask, how do you get this way? How do you pick out your clothes and combine them? Because I don't think I could pull it off. Her book is called Atmospheric Disturbances, and I know I read it years ago, but I need a refresher. I always like reading books that my teachers have written so I get a better sense of them.
For next week we have to read a graphic novel about Marie Curie, which should be very awesome. This is one of those classes where I realize how lucky and blessed I am, and how thankful I took this risk to be here.
Friday, February 1, 2013
shakin' it up.
I just saw the Parkinson's/Movement Disorder specialist yesterday, after months of seeing the MS doctor (who is wonderful), and they basically came to the same conclusion: it's Essential Tremor, or ET. It's getting a little worse. It's spread to my legs, which is rare in ET, but can happen. Sometimes I feel my lips tremble but I'm not sure if it's in my head. ET typically strikes the hands, then moves up to arms, head, mouth, and voice. ET is a progressive neurological conditon, and usually strikes those 65 and older, although - surprise - young people can get it, too. There is no cure. Usually it runs in families, but not in mine. Doctors are very candid with patients - tremor is the hardest thing to treat. It usually isn't effective.
The top line medicines for it are the beta-blocker propranolol and the drug primidone, both of which did not help. Now we are on gabapentin (Neurontin) three times a day, with klonopin twice a day, and we are slowly upping the Neurontin to see if that works. After that, there's only Topamax. There IS one doctor in the city, at Mt.Sinai, who can prescribe an experimental drug - Xyrem - and its active ingredient is GHB. Yes, you read that right. GHB, the date rape drug. Roofies. In small doses, apparently it calms tremors. But because it is so tightly federally controlled, only certain doctors running the program can prescribe it. I looked it up - first of all, it's over $2,000 a month. Second, the side effects don't seem worh it. So I'm not considering that as an option.
I'm not going to lie. Everyone's like, oh, thank goodness it's not PD or MS. Well, I appreciate the sentiment, I really do - but if it were one of those, at least we'd have a treatment plan. With this, we're just like, okay, up the meds, see if it works, if we add Topamax and it still fails, you're shit outta luck. At least for now.
If I sound bitter or angry, I am. Two years ago I was training for a triathlon, and now I can't even run up and down steps. I am the girl everyone goes around when walking down subway steps, because I am the one holding onto the railing and taking each step slowly. I've learned to wait until the crowd subsides and then walk down. I'm tired all the time. I can't write longhand, which I love. I mean, I can, but it tires me out and it looks like chicken scratch, which only angers me more.
So with the help of Pura Vida bracelets, I am making a custom bracelet whose proceeds will be given to the NYU MS center, the NYU Center for Parkinson's and Movement Disorders, and the International Essential Tremor Foundation. They'll be coming in in a few weeks, and if you're interested, let me know. I'll be selling them for $5 and all proceeds go to the organizations. The string colors will be purple, white, black, lime green, and gray.
Yesterday, after my appointment, I felt hopeless. Like I only had a few more chances to deal with this tremor that has hijacked my life. I went to Brother Jimmy's BBQ (which claims to be Carolina BBQ) and ordered a beer and a Cheerwine float, along with hush puppies and pulled BBQ chicken with cornbread and fries. And another beer. And then I came home and went to the store and got Mike's Hard Lemonade. I drank three and proceeded to pass out on my bed. This is not typical behavior, but really, what are you supposed to do? I wallowed in it for one day and now I'm taking action.
I am a person who has been athletic all her life. This has seriously impacted me. It's also impacted my cognitive abilities a tiny bit to the point where I need to take notes when I read to remember things, and whereas it used to take me a day or two to finish a book, I need all week. It is incredibly disheartening. It used to be called "benign essential tremor," but they realized that it was anything but benign. So Google it, ask me questions, buy a bracelet.....millions of people suffeer from ET, and we deserve a cure just like any of the cancers. Or at least more medication options.
The top line medicines for it are the beta-blocker propranolol and the drug primidone, both of which did not help. Now we are on gabapentin (Neurontin) three times a day, with klonopin twice a day, and we are slowly upping the Neurontin to see if that works. After that, there's only Topamax. There IS one doctor in the city, at Mt.Sinai, who can prescribe an experimental drug - Xyrem - and its active ingredient is GHB. Yes, you read that right. GHB, the date rape drug. Roofies. In small doses, apparently it calms tremors. But because it is so tightly federally controlled, only certain doctors running the program can prescribe it. I looked it up - first of all, it's over $2,000 a month. Second, the side effects don't seem worh it. So I'm not considering that as an option.
I'm not going to lie. Everyone's like, oh, thank goodness it's not PD or MS. Well, I appreciate the sentiment, I really do - but if it were one of those, at least we'd have a treatment plan. With this, we're just like, okay, up the meds, see if it works, if we add Topamax and it still fails, you're shit outta luck. At least for now.
If I sound bitter or angry, I am. Two years ago I was training for a triathlon, and now I can't even run up and down steps. I am the girl everyone goes around when walking down subway steps, because I am the one holding onto the railing and taking each step slowly. I've learned to wait until the crowd subsides and then walk down. I'm tired all the time. I can't write longhand, which I love. I mean, I can, but it tires me out and it looks like chicken scratch, which only angers me more.
So with the help of Pura Vida bracelets, I am making a custom bracelet whose proceeds will be given to the NYU MS center, the NYU Center for Parkinson's and Movement Disorders, and the International Essential Tremor Foundation. They'll be coming in in a few weeks, and if you're interested, let me know. I'll be selling them for $5 and all proceeds go to the organizations. The string colors will be purple, white, black, lime green, and gray.
Yesterday, after my appointment, I felt hopeless. Like I only had a few more chances to deal with this tremor that has hijacked my life. I went to Brother Jimmy's BBQ (which claims to be Carolina BBQ) and ordered a beer and a Cheerwine float, along with hush puppies and pulled BBQ chicken with cornbread and fries. And another beer. And then I came home and went to the store and got Mike's Hard Lemonade. I drank three and proceeded to pass out on my bed. This is not typical behavior, but really, what are you supposed to do? I wallowed in it for one day and now I'm taking action.
I am a person who has been athletic all her life. This has seriously impacted me. It's also impacted my cognitive abilities a tiny bit to the point where I need to take notes when I read to remember things, and whereas it used to take me a day or two to finish a book, I need all week. It is incredibly disheartening. It used to be called "benign essential tremor," but they realized that it was anything but benign. So Google it, ask me questions, buy a bracelet.....millions of people suffeer from ET, and we deserve a cure just like any of the cancers. Or at least more medication options.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Shabbat musings
Today I had a visit at NYU's Multiple Sclerosis Center. I've been going for a few months, because of this tremor and associated symptoms. I have a clean MRI but was diagnosed with an Essential Tremor. But there are symptoms he can't explain, so he is sending me to a movement disorder/Parkinsons specialist, whom I see next month.
So I'm walking to the Shuttle to get back to Times Square, and I had just cried openly on the streets of NYC on the phone to both my mother and my father, because I'm hoping this med combo decreases them and because they are REALLY bad. It's noticeable. Anyway, I'm walking and I'm sure I didn't look super happy, and I saw the Chabad people and somehow got into a conversation with one. He asked if I was Jewish and I said yes - I'm not going to lie - and we got to talking. He asked me if I light the Sabbath (Shabbos) candles and I said no, so he pressed some into my hand and asked me to light them tonight, because it's a mitzvah. He also gave me the parsha of the week. For some reason, I am taking this as a sign. I usually ignore those people. but I cannot lie if I'm asked my religion - I can't, I won't - and somehow I was reminded today of the simple joy of lighting Shabbat candles. So at 4:46pm, I will be saying the Sabbath blessing and having some challah.
Sometimes I do miss being "more Jewish." I miss not going to synagogue, and I really should read the portion of the week. There are some Orthodox traditions that are beautiful. I went to an Orthodox kindergarten and Conservative day school until high school. We welcomed the Sabbath every friday at the end of the day. I understand the modesty traditions of the more Orthodox; when I was in Israel I didn't hesitate to pull on the long gauzy skirt I bought for the occasion over my shorts, and take one of the shawls to cover my shoulders and arms. That was at the Kotel.
For some reason, I am taking this as a sign. A sign to hold onto hope and faith, and not get too discouraged. And maybe stop and light she Shabbos candles every week.
So I'm walking to the Shuttle to get back to Times Square, and I had just cried openly on the streets of NYC on the phone to both my mother and my father, because I'm hoping this med combo decreases them and because they are REALLY bad. It's noticeable. Anyway, I'm walking and I'm sure I didn't look super happy, and I saw the Chabad people and somehow got into a conversation with one. He asked if I was Jewish and I said yes - I'm not going to lie - and we got to talking. He asked me if I light the Sabbath (Shabbos) candles and I said no, so he pressed some into my hand and asked me to light them tonight, because it's a mitzvah. He also gave me the parsha of the week. For some reason, I am taking this as a sign. I usually ignore those people. but I cannot lie if I'm asked my religion - I can't, I won't - and somehow I was reminded today of the simple joy of lighting Shabbat candles. So at 4:46pm, I will be saying the Sabbath blessing and having some challah.
Sometimes I do miss being "more Jewish." I miss not going to synagogue, and I really should read the portion of the week. There are some Orthodox traditions that are beautiful. I went to an Orthodox kindergarten and Conservative day school until high school. We welcomed the Sabbath every friday at the end of the day. I understand the modesty traditions of the more Orthodox; when I was in Israel I didn't hesitate to pull on the long gauzy skirt I bought for the occasion over my shorts, and take one of the shawls to cover my shoulders and arms. That was at the Kotel.
For some reason, I am taking this as a sign. A sign to hold onto hope and faith, and not get too discouraged. And maybe stop and light she Shabbos candles every week.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
headin' back
Headed back to the city tomorrow. Mixed feelings. All I really want to do is go back to North Carolina, and I am hoping a job comes through. I can't see myself in NYC much longer - it is killing my spirit inside and out, and taking a toll on my body. I'm looking forward to classes - I have some awesome teachers, including Sheila Heti and Honor Moore. It's a full load, so it's gonna be nonstop. And then "fake" graduation and then thesis time and job time. good times. :)
And you know, people can say what they want, but I have had two years to do what I love - read and write - with the added bonus of a hefty fellowship covering much of tuition. I have talked with some of the brightest and most interesting people to me, and I wouldn't trade that for the world. Yes, the MPH was practical.....but this, the MFA....this was my heart. And it has filled me with such joy, that even during frustrating or angering times, I am always glad I took this chance. Even when the thought of the new student loan payments hits me, I try to achieve a Zen state and think everything will work out. Karma, you know?
And you know, people can say what they want, but I have had two years to do what I love - read and write - with the added bonus of a hefty fellowship covering much of tuition. I have talked with some of the brightest and most interesting people to me, and I wouldn't trade that for the world. Yes, the MPH was practical.....but this, the MFA....this was my heart. And it has filled me with such joy, that even during frustrating or angering times, I am always glad I took this chance. Even when the thought of the new student loan payments hits me, I try to achieve a Zen state and think everything will work out. Karma, you know?
Thursday, January 17, 2013
home stretch.
Classes start Monday and already I have to finish a book for Wednesday. I would expect nothing less from this program. I'm excited for this semester - Mary Karr is coming to speak, I'm applying for fellowships and jobs, it might mean my time in the city is coming to an end......the possibilities are endless! Last semester was disillusioning for many reasons, and maybe it was my own naivete and foolishness that added to it. I had assumed simple manners; apparently that's optional nowadays. I haven't read nearly as much as I've wanted to, nor have I writtten....almost at all. here's to hoping I kick it into high gear.
Monday, January 14, 2013
one month later.
It's been a month since the Sandy Hook shootings. Not many news things affect me like this one has. Yesterday, my nephew was playing around and then fell on the floor and said, "I'm dead!" and immediately I said "G-d forbid" and explained to him that that's not funny. But for a split second, I could see those tiny bodies laying in classrooms or next to a teacher. Mickey Mouse shirts or little Uggs. His little body, sprawled on the floor, hit it home for me. I cannot even begin to fathom what the first responders had to witness and work with. TIME magazine voted Obama as "Man of the Year." Give me a fucking break. Aside from politics, The 6 teachers that died protecting the school and students have done more than he will ever do. The teachers who hid their students in closets and locked them into bathrooms and huddled under desks with them - these are the real heroes. In Judaism, there is a saying that if you save one life, it is like you have saved a world - because of all the things that person will do to create a ripple effect. 26 worlds were destroyed a month ago. Countless others are still picking up pieces, trying not to panic while walking in school, or saying goodbye to their other children while an empty bedroom continues to whisper.
I'm volunteering at my nephew's kindergarten class for a little bit as a "teacher's aide" on Wednesday. For the first time ever, I feel stirrings of nerves about going into a school. Has it really come to this, getting buzzed in at elementary schools, metal detectors in middle and high schools, requiring students to wear ID badges......my school days were very different, and I'm thankful for that. It seems like such an innocent time period. Well, it WAS before Columbine.
I guess I'm just trying to sort this all out in my head; I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about those who were killed, and what their families must be going through. Maybe it's my psychology background, I don't know. Maybe it's my love of children. But I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the horror of that day.
Pura Vida bracelets are handmade bracelets that create jobs for local Costa Ricans and donate money to various charities. They have a Sandy Hook bracelet for $5 and 100% of the proceeds go to the Sandy Hook Family Foundation. This provides ongoing support for the 26 families who lost loved ones. Unfortunately, it's not green and white, the school colors, but it is a light aqua color. When asked, PV replied that the color reminded them of angels. So why not, instead of that latte you were gonna buy, buy one of these instead. Things can change in an instant. A month ago, 26 families found that out in the most brutal way ever.
I'm volunteering at my nephew's kindergarten class for a little bit as a "teacher's aide" on Wednesday. For the first time ever, I feel stirrings of nerves about going into a school. Has it really come to this, getting buzzed in at elementary schools, metal detectors in middle and high schools, requiring students to wear ID badges......my school days were very different, and I'm thankful for that. It seems like such an innocent time period. Well, it WAS before Columbine.
I guess I'm just trying to sort this all out in my head; I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about those who were killed, and what their families must be going through. Maybe it's my psychology background, I don't know. Maybe it's my love of children. But I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the horror of that day.
Pura Vida bracelets are handmade bracelets that create jobs for local Costa Ricans and donate money to various charities. They have a Sandy Hook bracelet for $5 and 100% of the proceeds go to the Sandy Hook Family Foundation. This provides ongoing support for the 26 families who lost loved ones. Unfortunately, it's not green and white, the school colors, but it is a light aqua color. When asked, PV replied that the color reminded them of angels. So why not, instead of that latte you were gonna buy, buy one of these instead. Things can change in an instant. A month ago, 26 families found that out in the most brutal way ever.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Warm Whispers and Precious Things
I'm lying on my bed, trying to finish "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn," because I've somehow managed to evade it all through my English classes. I love it; I'm almost at the end but it's one of those books that you don't want to end, you want to stay with the characters a little longer.
I'm listening to a playlist on Spotify, and what should come on is Missy Higgins's "Warm Whispers." I love this song. I found it while at UNC and I can't tell you how many times I sat at my desk, trying to figure out biostatistics while listening to music that kept my spirit intact. The song reminds me of my running group, who, to this day, I think about often - the runs on the concrete, the trail runs, the sprints, everything. How veneers slowly came off as we sweated and pushed out bodies to keep going.
The next song is "Precious Things," one of my very favorite Tori Amos songs (but let's be real, I kind of like all of them). I love the angry pounding of the piano, the righteous anger in the song. There is a force to that song.
Music has always been a part of my life. It's been there when I felt hopeless and my family was turned upside down. It was there when, in high school, I listened to Sarah McLachlan's "Angel" at Lilith Fair, and decided I wanted to live, and made up my mind to agree to try antidepressants. It's been there during frat parties where we drank semi-warm beer from cups and thought that these were the days we'll remember, these are the days - singing "Livin' on a Prayer," "Glory Days," and so forth. I can't help but smile when I hear those songs. Study sessions with Manda, with Ani DiFranco or Sarah McLachlan in the background. "Build Me up Buttercup" was our unofficial sorority song. Norah Jones got me through the move to Florida and the confusion I felt that I made the wrong choice. Guster was a big deal in college. Phish - man, I saw them in concerts a lot. Now those are great memories.
lately, this is my life soundtrack:
"Dirty Love" by Ke$ha
versions of "Hallelujah"
"Hot Topic" by Le Tigre
"Napoleon" by Ani DiFranco
"Carolina in my Mind" by James Taylor
"Skinny love" by Birdy
"Come Alive" by Jes Hudak
"Let it Be" by the Beatles
What are the songs that define us? Or add color to the mosaic that is yourself? What songs do we turn to in moments of sadness, or joy, or anger? How does our personal soundtrack change over time? Interesting thought.
Here's Missy Higgins, with "Warm Whispers." The video is just a picture with the song going - all the live videos I saw weren't that great.
I'm listening to a playlist on Spotify, and what should come on is Missy Higgins's "Warm Whispers." I love this song. I found it while at UNC and I can't tell you how many times I sat at my desk, trying to figure out biostatistics while listening to music that kept my spirit intact. The song reminds me of my running group, who, to this day, I think about often - the runs on the concrete, the trail runs, the sprints, everything. How veneers slowly came off as we sweated and pushed out bodies to keep going.
The next song is "Precious Things," one of my very favorite Tori Amos songs (but let's be real, I kind of like all of them). I love the angry pounding of the piano, the righteous anger in the song. There is a force to that song.
Music has always been a part of my life. It's been there when I felt hopeless and my family was turned upside down. It was there when, in high school, I listened to Sarah McLachlan's "Angel" at Lilith Fair, and decided I wanted to live, and made up my mind to agree to try antidepressants. It's been there during frat parties where we drank semi-warm beer from cups and thought that these were the days we'll remember, these are the days - singing "Livin' on a Prayer," "Glory Days," and so forth. I can't help but smile when I hear those songs. Study sessions with Manda, with Ani DiFranco or Sarah McLachlan in the background. "Build Me up Buttercup" was our unofficial sorority song. Norah Jones got me through the move to Florida and the confusion I felt that I made the wrong choice. Guster was a big deal in college. Phish - man, I saw them in concerts a lot. Now those are great memories.
lately, this is my life soundtrack:
"Dirty Love" by Ke$ha
versions of "Hallelujah"
"Hot Topic" by Le Tigre
"Napoleon" by Ani DiFranco
"Carolina in my Mind" by James Taylor
"Skinny love" by Birdy
"Come Alive" by Jes Hudak
"Let it Be" by the Beatles
What are the songs that define us? Or add color to the mosaic that is yourself? What songs do we turn to in moments of sadness, or joy, or anger? How does our personal soundtrack change over time? Interesting thought.
Here's Missy Higgins, with "Warm Whispers." The video is just a picture with the song going - all the live videos I saw weren't that great.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
2013
A new year, a new start. First, some good news - I am going to be an aunt again! The baby is due in July, and I'm very excited. I've been collecting materials for my thesis and writing (though not as much as I should be) and I was able to do some freelance work. I have found a mentor for my thesis, and I plan on taking no more than a year of Research Arts. (hopefully just a semester). I'm applying for jobs down South that I am very excited about, and I continue to have blind faith that things will work out. Things happen for a reason.
A blog reader sent a nasty comment, which I chose not to publish - if I'm not mistaken, this person has done so several times before. You know what I was always taught? "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say it at all." What good comes out of putting other people down? Does it boost one's self-esteem? If so, that's a problem. All too seldom do we see kindness anymore, and hiding behind an anonymous name and screen makes it that much easier to hurt people. Whatever happened to the Golden Rule? sigh. I guess some of us just never left kindergarten.
Speaking of which, my nephew is doing wonderfully in kindergarten, and I am so proud of him. We went to the library and got some books, and now he wants to go again, which makes me happy. I like sharing the love of reading with him.
And of course, the Sandy Hook shooting - I still can't get it out of my mind. How do you tell your kids that their sibling has been shot? How does someone go into a school and shoot ANYONE, much less kids 6 or 7 years old? I admire the teachers who protected their students that day - those are the real heroes, TIME magazine. The special ed teacher who was found slumped over several students. The teacher who locked herself and her class in a bathroom and helped them stay calm and survive? And the students themselves - what courage it takes to go back to school. A place that was a safe haven, changed forever. Yes, it's a new building, but a class is missing. My heart breaks everytime I think about what those children must have been thinking.
The medicine for the tremors isn't working as well as I'd hoped; I fell down the steps twice in NC and my hands still shake. The good thing is, I get out of handling dishes and food! haha. No, seriously, I am hoping he maybe increases the dosage and it'll work out.
Happy New Year, everyone!
A blog reader sent a nasty comment, which I chose not to publish - if I'm not mistaken, this person has done so several times before. You know what I was always taught? "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say it at all." What good comes out of putting other people down? Does it boost one's self-esteem? If so, that's a problem. All too seldom do we see kindness anymore, and hiding behind an anonymous name and screen makes it that much easier to hurt people. Whatever happened to the Golden Rule? sigh. I guess some of us just never left kindergarten.
Speaking of which, my nephew is doing wonderfully in kindergarten, and I am so proud of him. We went to the library and got some books, and now he wants to go again, which makes me happy. I like sharing the love of reading with him.
And of course, the Sandy Hook shooting - I still can't get it out of my mind. How do you tell your kids that their sibling has been shot? How does someone go into a school and shoot ANYONE, much less kids 6 or 7 years old? I admire the teachers who protected their students that day - those are the real heroes, TIME magazine. The special ed teacher who was found slumped over several students. The teacher who locked herself and her class in a bathroom and helped them stay calm and survive? And the students themselves - what courage it takes to go back to school. A place that was a safe haven, changed forever. Yes, it's a new building, but a class is missing. My heart breaks everytime I think about what those children must have been thinking.
The medicine for the tremors isn't working as well as I'd hoped; I fell down the steps twice in NC and my hands still shake. The good thing is, I get out of handling dishes and food! haha. No, seriously, I am hoping he maybe increases the dosage and it'll work out.
Happy New Year, everyone!
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Art School Semester #3: Check.
This is it. I leave the city early tomorrow morning. I only have one semester of art school left. (Of courses, anyway - we have another 3 years to do our thesis, I plan on only taking one). I cannot believe the semester is over. In some ways this has trudged by - I remember the first day of school and thinking, "why are there so many first years in my classes?" because I didn't recognize anyone. And now we're making plans to workshop pieces, send book lists, hang out, etc. I had two amazing professors this semester, Eileen Myles (whom BUST magazine called "the rock star of modern poetry") and Rebecca Godfrey. Both had syllabi that introduced me to compelling new writers that broke the mold of the "literary canon" that's been full of dead white men. And the occasional mention of Virginia Woolf. And I felt more like an "artist" this semester than I have....ever, I think.
High Points of the Semester:
1. Having Eileen Myles as a prof and actually like, having conversations with her.
2. Meeting author Laurie Weeks (also mentioned in Hot Topic song and was a screenwriter for "Boys Don't Cry") and having her tell me to *trust myself*, even though you'll be told not to.
3. Reading. In public. With the rest of Eileen's class. We put it together at a gallery, had Bob Gluck come, Cecelia Dougherty was there (another Hot Topic mention), and we had a pretty big turnout, if I do say so myself. I was terrified, but I did it.
4. Becoming facebook friends and email buds with Lidia Yuknavitch, whose memoir is just so kick-ass-tastic and called Holden Caulfield a "whiny little bitch." ha!
5. Visits to the Strand.
6. Getting to know more first-years, who are a pretty great bunch.
7. Having two Australian roommates who are normal and not crazy and actually eat Vegimite.
8. My discovery of Old Navy performance fleece. Why did no one tell me about this before? Why wear anything else?
Low Points of the Semester:
1. Still trying to figure out thesis....illness/death memoir of aunt, Southern lit's influence on me.....we shall see. Maybe I will just write ALL THE THINGS.
2. All this medical stuff which has, as of right now, been diagnosed as Essential Tremor. It used to be called Benign Essential Tremor, but it is far from benign. It's a progressive neurological condition that causes, you guessed it, tremors. I have bad ones in my hands, legs, and a slight one in my head, that the neuro picked up. But my doctor is wonderful - he is one of those doctors that you really just want to thank for being who he is - never rushed, thoughtful, personable, treats you as a person.....too bad he's married. Cause I think he's Jewish, too. :(
3. Financial cost of living in NYC.
4. Dropping the famous J-school book seminar I earned my way into.
5. Having one of the meds my doc put me on have the same effect as Ambien does on me - I woke up the next day to a "thank you for your order" email from Old Navy that I had no recollection of. Thankfully, my medicated me simply did holiday shopping for other people's gifts. Practical, even when drugged.
6. My pre-Thanksgiving subway/cab/running adventure with a first year, Hal. It was like a bad holiday movie. The subway was held up, we got out and tried to get a cab, no luck, we're running through Penn Station.......yeah. He offered to hold my bag. He's quite the gentleman. But he's like, 22. A fetus.
I'm actually surprised there are more high points, because it's been a rough semester emotionally and physically, but I think the ET has had a lot to do with it. When you have a chronic condition but it's invisible, people think you're fine. No one would ever give up a seat on the subway for me, even though sometimes my legs shake very badly. (But I'd give it to an old person first). When I bail on events because I have to come home after class and nap because a two hour period of being "on" is exhausting, it's hard to explain that to people. Since we thought maybe it was MS in the beginning, I found a pretty cool group of young people on Instagram, Twitter, etc, who have MS. They completely understand when I feel like people think I have the DTs because I shake - because sometimes people think they're drunk if they slur or off balance. They understand the sheer fatigue that really no sleep can make better. And they have a wicked sense of black humor.
I have a lot to do over break. Write. Read. A lot. More. It was my goal to read 200 books this year; I've surpassed that and now am trying to hit 300, but I'm not sure it will happen. got some catching up to do.
good times.
High Points of the Semester:
1. Having Eileen Myles as a prof and actually like, having conversations with her.
2. Meeting author Laurie Weeks (also mentioned in Hot Topic song and was a screenwriter for "Boys Don't Cry") and having her tell me to *trust myself*, even though you'll be told not to.
3. Reading. In public. With the rest of Eileen's class. We put it together at a gallery, had Bob Gluck come, Cecelia Dougherty was there (another Hot Topic mention), and we had a pretty big turnout, if I do say so myself. I was terrified, but I did it.
4. Becoming facebook friends and email buds with Lidia Yuknavitch, whose memoir is just so kick-ass-tastic and called Holden Caulfield a "whiny little bitch." ha!
5. Visits to the Strand.
6. Getting to know more first-years, who are a pretty great bunch.
7. Having two Australian roommates who are normal and not crazy and actually eat Vegimite.
8. My discovery of Old Navy performance fleece. Why did no one tell me about this before? Why wear anything else?
Low Points of the Semester:
1. Still trying to figure out thesis....illness/death memoir of aunt, Southern lit's influence on me.....we shall see. Maybe I will just write ALL THE THINGS.
2. All this medical stuff which has, as of right now, been diagnosed as Essential Tremor. It used to be called Benign Essential Tremor, but it is far from benign. It's a progressive neurological condition that causes, you guessed it, tremors. I have bad ones in my hands, legs, and a slight one in my head, that the neuro picked up. But my doctor is wonderful - he is one of those doctors that you really just want to thank for being who he is - never rushed, thoughtful, personable, treats you as a person.....too bad he's married. Cause I think he's Jewish, too. :(
3. Financial cost of living in NYC.
4. Dropping the famous J-school book seminar I earned my way into.
5. Having one of the meds my doc put me on have the same effect as Ambien does on me - I woke up the next day to a "thank you for your order" email from Old Navy that I had no recollection of. Thankfully, my medicated me simply did holiday shopping for other people's gifts. Practical, even when drugged.
6. My pre-Thanksgiving subway/cab/running adventure with a first year, Hal. It was like a bad holiday movie. The subway was held up, we got out and tried to get a cab, no luck, we're running through Penn Station.......yeah. He offered to hold my bag. He's quite the gentleman. But he's like, 22. A fetus.
I'm actually surprised there are more high points, because it's been a rough semester emotionally and physically, but I think the ET has had a lot to do with it. When you have a chronic condition but it's invisible, people think you're fine. No one would ever give up a seat on the subway for me, even though sometimes my legs shake very badly. (But I'd give it to an old person first). When I bail on events because I have to come home after class and nap because a two hour period of being "on" is exhausting, it's hard to explain that to people. Since we thought maybe it was MS in the beginning, I found a pretty cool group of young people on Instagram, Twitter, etc, who have MS. They completely understand when I feel like people think I have the DTs because I shake - because sometimes people think they're drunk if they slur or off balance. They understand the sheer fatigue that really no sleep can make better. And they have a wicked sense of black humor.
I have a lot to do over break. Write. Read. A lot. More. It was my goal to read 200 books this year; I've surpassed that and now am trying to hit 300, but I'm not sure it will happen. got some catching up to do.
good times.
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