Sundays

It's another gloomy Sunday. I walked the twenty-minute walk to and from the gym this morning, listening to rainy day music instead of the usual workout music--the wind cutting through my sweatshirt and tiny raindrops painting the sidewalk.

I had a nice weekend. I ran a writing workshop Friday morning. Went out for Tammy's birthday Friday night. Spent the day at the coffee shop with some new friends from my religion class, and spent last night with a book under a blanket. Today, I did some (although very little) homework at the coffee shop chatting it up with different acquaintances and friends. I even chatted a bit with my religion prof, which was nice. I like getting to talk to professors one-on-one. They all seem to live such interesting lives.

School has been really hard for me lately. I skipped three classes last week, because I felt like I was getting sick and the week just seemed to daunting to get through. My doctor said not to be alarmed, because I don't skip classes often, and it's getting to be that time in the semester where it takes extra discipline to attend class. I've always been such a serious student, but lately, I'm having trouble caring. My therapist says she's amazed that I am even able to continue to going to school after all of the years I spent performing for everyone else. Now, I'm done jumping through hoops for people, and that is essentially all school is--jumping through hoops.

This time of year is normally very difficult for me. The decrease in sunshine, the cold that comes sweeping in, the increased in academic pressure, and the memories of past falls spent crazy...they're all hard to cope with. I feel like I'm doing a pretty good job this fall, though. I'm working out, eating okay, still sleeping too much, but what can you do? At least I am sleeping. I would much rather sleep too much than not enough. I felt like I might be in a creative mindset tonight, so I tried to work on my book, but I just stared at the screen. I'm kind of stuck. Having a professor help me along will be nice. I figured blogging was somewhat of a compromise, so here I am, updating you all :)

Writing a Book, or something of the sort

I've decided to use my portfolio (30 pages) toward a book. I think I could also use pieces of some of my published essays toward it as well. I desire to write a book about my mental health journey mixed with a mostly rocky-at-best search for spirituality.

I'm writing here, because I'm stuck again. What's so tricky is that I've worked very hard to polish those thirty pages. So now, starting all over with a blank page to compare only to some of my best work is discouraging. I've discovered I remember life in the form of conversations and dialogue. I often have been complimented on my ability to construct real life dialogue in my essays, and I am now beginning to believe that is just the way I remember things. I think about what other people say, and what I say to them, a lot. I'm constantly worried about saying something dumb, which I do so often, yet it's not nearly as traumatic as it sounds. I'm also interested in others ideas about life, so I recall serious, in depth conversations pretty well. I am thankful for that. However, it is frustrating because now I am only writing down random conversations, and I have to figure out how to develop the scenes and put them in some sort of logical order. Creative non-fiction is so challenging, but I love it. It is difficult to stay true to life, yet compose an interesting story with a beginning, middle, and end. I'm not complaining, because I really do enjoy it. It's just frustrating some days, and tonight is one of those days.

Like a Prayer

Madonna's "Like a Prayer" came on randomly on my ipod today, and I smiled blatantly while walking to class. I have so many fun memories to that song--dancing as a kid, dancing with Joe, surrounded by writers at AWP in Chicago, and just plain singing along with friends in the car. I like happy songs.

I'm at the library, supposed to be working on my Religion class midterm, but I don't have the necessary reading material to begin. So now, I'm just wasting time on the internet. Our midterm is going to be a debate over the movie "Religulous" by Bill Maher. I own the movie, so I'm a little upset that I had to pay $4 to rent it up here because I left it at home. In order to prepare for the debate we have to answer four questions--all a page each. He said to allow ourselves four hours to work on it. If I don't work on it tonight, I probably won't get to until this weekend, which will put a damper on being home. I'm looking forward to going home, though. Also, I'm attending Drew's birthday party on Friday. It is a seventies theme party, so I am looking forward to wearing my tie-dye and hippie-ish headband.

I thought I was in a writing mood, but now that I am typing, I am not. So here is my short blog. I'm out.

Dreamin' of the Future

I've been talking to a lot of people about graduate school. If I can get funding, I will stay here at Central--and chances are, I'll get funding. This would allow me two years to remain in an academic environment, write under professors, and mature a bit before moving out of state. I want to use the material from my portfolio toward a book. A book takes more than two years to write, so I plan to work hard on the book as a part of my graduate thesis here, and then get into an MFA program (which by then, I could hopefully get into either a really competitive school or get funding at another) where I could polish up the book and prepare to send out to editors.

I already paid the $75 application fee at U-AZ, so I will still apply there, and if I get funding, I would consider going. However, the chances of me getting both accepted and funding at the young age of 23 (I'll be 23 by then) is rare. Plus, even if I rush into an MFA program, everyone talks about the tough slap in the face after those two years. One professor said, "Every writer has to pay his or her time. It just depends on whether you want to wait tables and write on the side or stay in school and write." I think I'd rather stay in school, as romantic as waiting tables in New York, struggling to pay the rent sounds.

Today two boys in my poetry class told me I looked nice. The one is a bit flamboyant and said, "OH you look nice today," and the other one is a big guy with long hair, a beard, and tattoos all up his arm, and he said, "I was thinking the same thing." This was especially a compliment because I was not wearing any make-up. Plus, I had my glasses on. I feel most "me" when I have my glasses and no make-up on. I felt like they were saying the real me is beautiful. It mean a lot. I was dressed decent and had one of my hippie headbands in with my hair scrunched, but it was a very low-maintenced day. I've been so tired all the time, it's hard to get motivated to look nice, when all I do is contemplate when my next nap is. I'm at work, and my shift is almost up, so I'm out :)

A Beautiful Fall Day

Wake Up!

I just bought the new John Legend and the Roots album "Wake Up!" It is all covers from the sixties and seventies about issues of social and political importance. I'm so glad I went out and bought the album instead of downloading it from itunes. Not only is it cooler to have the actual CD and CD case, but the booklet has cool reflections on what they are trying to do with this album, and how our generation is so apathetic and our musicians (I think they are targeting pop and hip-hop) aren't saying anything about initiating change. They include a quote from Nina Simone, "it's the job of an artist to reflect the times." The album was first thought of after Obama's presidential bid. They've been working away, uncovering old protest soul, and they came up with this album. I think it's a great way to introduce social justice to a new generation that needs to wake up.

Speaking of waking up, I have a really hard time getting out of bed every day. I sleep ten hours a night, and I never feel rested. I go to the doctor tomorrow, so we shall see what happens.

I'm sitting here with wet hair even though I have class in half an hour, which means I need to leave in fifteen minutes, yet I'm blogging. It's warm enough I can just put my hair up or wear a hat for this class and do my hair after class. Today is a day I don't care what I look like. I am wearing jeans and a t-shirt, no make up, and I'm sporting wet hair. I like having these days once in a while. Days where I'm just naturally me. It makes me want to sip tea and journal all afternoon, but instead I have class, a break, class, and then a meeting. Talk about creatively stifling.

I heard this awesome author speak about his book. He talked about how sometimes you have to sacrifice for your writing--even if that means not necessarily giving 100% to school. He went to Central for his MA before getting his MFA. He recommended I consider it, if I can get it paid for because that will buy me two extra years to just write and work on a book. Then, I will get some teaching experience and possibly be able to get into an even more competitive MFA program--where I could then put the finishing touches on a book to publish. I'm considering it.

I've been reading lots of poetry, which is nice. It always makes me more observant of little things. A friend of mine and I e-mail each other poems back and forth, which is always a nice surprise. I love that horses one I posted. The images are amazing. I am looking forward to presenting it to my class on Thursday. I get ten minutes to talk about the technique, lines, sounds, etc... basically I just get to gush over how much I love it.

I don't have much more to say, and I need to go to class, but I would much rather sit here, reflecting. Ugh the life of a student.

A Pretty Poem I'm Presenting in Class this Week

I saw this woman perform this poem at a writing conference. She has horses tattooed on her arm and said she had a vision of her horse that told her to stop drinking, so she listened to it. Amazing, huh? What a beautiful soul.

She Had Some Horses

by Joy Harjo

She had some horses.

She had horses who were bodies of sand.

She had horses who were maps drawn of blood.

She had horses who were skins of ocean water.

She had horses who were the blue air of sky.

She had horses who were fur and teeth.

She had horses who were clay and would break.

She had horses who were splintered red cliff.

She had some horses.

She had horses with eyes of trains.

She had horses with full, brown thighs.

She had horses who laughed too much.

She had horses who threw rocks at glass houses.

She had horses who licked razor blades.

She had some horses.

She had horses who danced in their mothers’ arms.

She had horses who thought they were the sun and their

bodies shone and burned like stars.

She had horses who waltzed nightly on the moon.

She had horses who were much too shy, and kept quiet

in stalls of their own making.

She had some horses.

She had horses who liked Creek Stomp Dance songs.

She had horses who cried in their beer.

She had horses who spit at male queens who made them afraid of

themselves.

She had horses who said they weren’t afraid.

She had horses who lied.

She had horses told the truth, who were stripped

bare of their tongues.

She had some horses.

She had horses who called themselves, “horse.”

She had horses who called themselves, “spirit,” and kept

their voices secret and to themselves.

She had horses who had no names.

She had horses who had books of names.

She had some horses.

She had horses who whispered in the dark, who were afraid to speak.

She had horses who screamed out of fear of the silence, who

carried knives to protect themselves from ghosts.

She had horses who waited for destruction.

She had horses who waited for resurrection.

She had some horses.

She had horses who got down on their knees for any savior.

She had horses who thought their high price had saved them.

She had horses who tried to save her, who climbed in her

bed at night and prayed as they raped her.

She had some horses.

She had some horses she loved.

She had some horses she hated.

These were the same horses.

Little Droplets

Things are going well. Just okay most days, but what really excites me is that I have good days--days where I can stop and think, "today was a good day." Poetry has been going okay. The portfolio is in the getting-feedback-stage. I think it's important I keep my creative outlets open.

Last Thursday, I had a great day. There was no particular reason, and it was a rainy day. I left early for everything, when normally I am power-walking, running late. I walked slowly with my pink polka dot umbrella (thanks, Mom). I was reminded how beautiful our campus is. There were little droplets hanging from leaves and flower petals. I listened to jazz music and enjoyed the rain.

The apartment is much homier this year. We have plenty of seating in the living room, and I just bought a great Beatles poster. It's not one of the cliche ones, but instead it's of the four of them dressed up in suits. John and Paul are shaking hands and laughing Plus, Leslie bought some modern looking flowers with feathers in the back ground. We have Buddha sitting on top of my carefully organized book shelf, and a nice dining room table. My friend that claims she can feel people's energy says that both my apartment and I have a new energy. She says I look like a completely different person than I was. I don't know if I believe in reading energies, but she sure is right about me being a totally different person than I was a year ago.

A Poem for the Soul

Note to Slip in Your Pocket, Never Slipped

by Erica Wright

Did your mother ask when you'll bring a wife,
purse her lips until they disappeared?
Did you show her the ceramic bird

then shut it away with the other
birthday gifts? You say you're better
off than most married folks you know,

and I want to toss off,
let's you and me make a go of it.
You can fill your truck bed with hydrangeas.

I'll dig their holes with my hands.
Then again, to be honest, I don't much care
for dirt, so let's scratch the whole thing,

can't we? I never told you about the night
your friend sang to me as I clutched
his infant son in my lap and asked

when's Susan getting back from her sister's.
As if my refusal had anything
to do with him, he shrank and snapped,

you're holding him wrong.
I don't know how to hold anything.
I'm trying to say I've only done one thing right,

and that was leave. I'm trying to say
I can show you how if you'd like.
Step one: let your wings grow back;

ignore the sores they make
on your shoulder blades; welcome
the dun-colored feathers and infection.

Music

I'm back in a poetry class, which causes me to obsess about language. I listen for all of the rhythm, rhyme, assonance, and alliteration , not to mention, just the plain music of poems. I have a beginners back ground in music from my middle school days of playing clarinet, but I want my poetry to be more musical.

Switching back and forth from non-fiction to poetry is incredibly challenging, but they're good for each other. It's important to make my prose more lyrical and to help my poems become more personal and intense.

I finished my final incomplete. You can bet, the hallelujah choir was singing after I finished that.

Tomorrow, I have my first therapy appointment. It will be good to catch up with my therapist, although, I still want to ask about only going every other week. Every week is such a time commitment. It's just another appointment I have to keep. We'll see what she thinks of my decision to be a little more independent though.

Ah I'm Back

After much silence and terrible internet, I am back to blogging.

I spent my last week at home in North Carolina with Laura. It was a wonderful get away. I finished my homework and spent lots of quality time with Laura and the Ocean. The downside was that I did not get to say goodbye to anyone in Adrian. I missed my first flight home, and the second one was so delayed that it would cause me to miss my connecting flight. I had to stay a whole extra day in North Carolina, which proved to be a lot of fun with Laura, but it gave me very little time when I got home to prepare to leave for school.

I am having trouble staying motivated for this final exam I have to take on Thursday. It's hard to try when I feel like I've already failed it. I'm going to start fresh tomorrow, though. Tomorrow will be a study day.

Ray called tonight. It was nice just to chat with him. He has moved to Florida, and due to his extensive MFA program, he will not make it home until Christmas. I'm nervous to start applying for grad schools. They're all so far away from home. I suppose I gotta grow up sooner than later.

I'm looking forward to classes starting. It will be so nice to be a normal student again with no incompletes to worry about. I am also looking forward to returning to work this semester. My bosses seemed happy to have me back, which I am thankful for.

I have been sleeping a lot. I'm still twitching a lot, despite my doctor adjusting my meds. I am frustrated, because I think I might be sleeping so much because the twitching interrupts my sleep.

Something

This is something. Anything. An entry. I don't know what to say. I said goodbye to my kids today, and it was very sad. They gave me lots of hugs and all said they would miss me. One of the cutest little girls said, "I'm going to miss you a lot a lot a lot a lot a lot." It was adorable.

I'm sick of trying so hard to make change and seeing little results. I'm frustrated with therapy. I feel like I'm ready to start decreasing the amount of times I attend. I'm learning to change my thoughts, which is promising.

I guess that's it for now. Things are decent. I gotta finish my incomplete. BOoo.

Journal

I took on the challenge of journaling every day this week for writer's group. I haven't yet written since Thursday night, so this is my journal for today. It's sort of a slacker's journal, but I don't want to waste pen and paper for this.

I have to wake up at 5 tomorrow to ride a morning bus. I had a little too much fun Friday, so I slept until noon today since I didn't get to recover yesterday. Therefore, going to bed early will be difficult.

Yesterday, I went to Ryan's wedding reception. It was so nice to see him and the rest of the S. Dakota group. I overslept, making them all wait, which never fails to make me feel like the worst human being alive. I'm so thankful they waited for me, though. I really enjoyed my time with everyone.

I look forward to every weekend while I'm working, but when the weekend comes, that's generally when my depression acts up. Maybe because I have time for it to flare up? I always feel lousy on weekends mood wise. It's hard to get out of bed.

Today, I hung out with friends from High School, and it was so nice to see all of them. It was Dawn, Dashon, Cristina, and Kristin's mom (since Kristin is in Chile). I've missed them all a lot. They make me feel apart of a separate family. It's good to feel like I belong in different circles.

Still looking good...

Things are looking good. I like my therapist. I'm making progress in my long, dry book I'm required to read for my incomplete. I'm being mindful of two positive thoughts every day, and I am writing again. Plus, Groove Adam is home, and it's nice to spend time with him. I'm content right now. Glad to be alive.

Positive

Looking back at the number of blogs I put out per year, I can't help but notice I only had 39 entries in 2009. I guess, that's the year of the hospitalizations. Actually, there were very little positive things about 2009--now that I think about it. That is probably why I didn't want to blog. I didn't have much to say except dark, repetitive thoughts.

I'm struggling to keep up with blogging this summer. I think it's because I still don't have a lot of positive things to say. I'm struggling away with my incomplete, work, and writing seems impossible these days.

One thing that has been helping me is that Laura and I ask each other what are two positive thoughts we had every day. Now, I'm beginning to be more mindful of paying attention to those rare thoughts. It's important to give the positive thoughts more power than the negative, but our culture does the opposite. I'm guilty of remembering more negative things than positive.

So, ordinarily, I'd say today was just mediocre. But, really it was a good day. No major drama at work. The kids got to go swimming. I had tamales for breakfast. I worked out after work, and visited my grandpa. I have a feeling in the future, I will look back on a day like today and miss it. I love my job and my kids, which is easy to forget when they're all whining and shouting, "Aimee!" because they want my attention at the same time. I also feel fortunate for the time spent with my grandpa. We don't talk much when I'm there, but just sitting with him is nice.

Two positive thoughts I had today: This is a good morning and this is a good day.

One Hell of a Hot Day

Today was in the upper nineties. That's hard to deal with inside of a school building with no windows and no air conditioning. We had to switch classrooms this year. Our program now occupies the other half of the building, which happens to be the hottest side. When walking from one side to the other, there was a 10-15 degree change. My shirt was soaked, and I had trouble staying awake all day even though I went to bed early.

Work is going well. The kids are challenging this year. We have a young group with little schooling, so we are working on very basic things like writing names and such... One little girl tells me I'm beautiful almost every day. She doesn't even remember my name. She just says, "Teacher, you're so beautiful." Needless to say, I love her.

I had a wonderful vacation to the Outer Banks. I visited Laura, and was reminded how much I miss her. I've never had a friend I am so close with, so I was reminded how thankful I am for her friendship. We talked about how much we have been through together and how strong our friendship is as a result of such struggles.

Leslie, Alicia, and Alicia's boyfriend, James, drove down and met us there. It was nice to experience such wonderful things with so many close friends. I saw dolphins, went kayaking, and hang gliding.

Hang gliding was freeing. I went tandem with a professional, so I could ride up 2,000 feet and be released. I also was able to go alone while supervised by an instructor off of a sand dune. I didn't go very high or very far, but it felt like a dream. I was flying. I crashed pretty hard the one time, and scraped my shin on the control bar. I have a nice scrape/bruise to prove it.

Another Sunday Night

Sunday nights always make me anxious. I am excited to start work tomorrow. The kids don't start until Tuesday, and I can't wait. Those kids give me an unquestionable reason for living for six weeks. I feel needed, loved, and appreciated by the most innocent little tykes. I really do love them.

I have an appointment at my new therapist's tomorrow. I'm a little nervous. Starting over is always a pain, but new perspectives are always worth it.

Tonight I feel like writing, but the words don't look as beautiful as normal. They aren't flowing out all tied nicely together, but instead they are choppy and crooked. I'm pausing for too long at every punctuation mark, but my thoughts aren't cold tonight.

I haven't been able to see many of the people I would like to lately. April and Evan have been in town off and on, but they have been really busy. Now, I am really busy, so it's hard to sync our schedules. Adam is working a lot. I was supposed to meet up with him and Sista Ashley, but he never called. I am sure work is wearing him out. I miss him, though. I miss these people so much because they engage in meaningful conversations. I get so sick of talking about the weather all the time.

Wednesday, I am flying out to see Laura. It has been hard to be apart for so long since we used to hang out every day. I'm so excited to spend plenty of time with her, enjoy the ocean, and soak up some sun. I'm a little nervous to fly alone, but it will be good for my confidence. I'm proud that I am not letting fear get in the way of an awesome vacation. It doesn't make me any less nervous, though. I can do it. I know I can. I just have to remember that positive self-talk.

Update

I don't have much to update. I start work Monday, which I am really looking forward to. However, that means summer will be over before I know it, and I am certainly not ready to finish my final incomplete. I'm so frustrated by this class because I am expected to teach myself everything I missed from not being in class, and my brain just does not remember names, dates, and arabic words. It really is a nightmare. Reading from the book I'm supposed to do a report on nearly sent me into paralysis. I just keep trying to remind myself that the other incompletes were hard to finish too, and somehow, I pulled those off. Never have I been this scared that failing is possible, but I have to try to pass with everything I have. The problem is, I've been making this class my life. If I fail, I have to remember that life goes on, and I will recover from it. I have this "end-of-the-world" mindset that failing is like death, and that's so not true. I'm just going to do my best, but not let it affect my health.

I haven't skateboarded since Laura moved away. I just don't have the desire. Skating alone isn't nearly as fun. Not to mention, it's been hot and I've had trouble getting motivated to do anything.

I see a new therapist on Monday. I'm a little nervous, but I'm going to try really hard to make progress instead of regressing. I guess, that's all I have to say for now. Oh and in less than one week, I get to visit Laura in NC where I will get to go hang gliding and dolphin watching. It's like my dream come true.

Some Summer

I've experienced a taste of summer. I went tubing down the river with my friends at school; I've been skateboarding a lot, and I am now living back at my parents'. I'm feeling restless. Partially because I don't have anything I NEED to do, but I have a lot of stuff I SHOULD be doing. That's a horrible combination. I just keep procrastinating and feeling guilty about not getting any work done. I have been working out though. I'm more out of shape than I've ever been. It's hard mentally--to adjust to my new limitations. It's like having a new disability. You want to be able to function like you used to, but it's just not possible for me to go out and jog a couple miles like it's nothing anymore. I'm hoping to lose the weight my medicine made me gain last year. I don't take that medication anymore, so I hope losing the weight won't be impossible.

My best friend, Laura, moved away to North Carolina. Saying goodbye was so heartbreaking, although, I will say my last month with her was wonderful. We did a great job at taking advantage of whatever time we had left together. Also, I bought a plane ticket to go see her over the fourth of July weekend. I can't wait to see her and be able to do fun things at the ocean. We should be able to go hang gliding and dolphin watching. How exciting! It's nice to have something to look forward to. It made saying goodbye easier, too. I bought the plane ticket the day before she left so that I could know I would see her again soon. I'm used to her living three blocks away and seeing her every day. This being far away will take some getting used to.

I haven't wanted to blog because I'm feeling distant. My therapist pointed out that I am a very guarded person. I don't mean to be that way. I don't know why I'm that way, but it's true. I don't let many people get to know me well. I'm difficult to get to know. That's really all I have to say about that right now. I'll try to blog more. It's hard to blog when I'm doing next to nothing every day.

Looking Back

1. Stay out of the hospital

2. Use healthy coping strategies

3. Be more forgiving of myself

4. Conquer the ramp that broke my arm

5. Lose the ten pounds my meds made me gain

6. Continue to work hard in therapy

7. Finish books I start

8. Finish my poetry portfolio

9. Complete my incompletes

10. Be more assertive, making a conscious effort not to feel guilty about it

These were my New Years Resolutions. So far I have stayed out of the hospital, used healthy coping strategies, conquered the ramp that broke my arm (Yeah! Still excited about that one). Continued to work hard in therapy, finished four books, finished my poetry portfolio, completed all but one incomplete, and been somewhat more assertive. I'm doing well.

I'm sort of done with school. I have until Wednesday to finish my Spanish incomplete and until the end of summer to finish my History incomplete. It feels good to have the worst over with. It's shockingly cold up here these days. It makes it hard to play outside, although, I must say I have enjoyed some time to sleep and read for fun. I'm re-reading Marya Hornbacher's book, Madness. It's about her life with bipolar disorder. It's written so raw and honest; it inspires me to write like that. I'd like to start a book this summer, and yes, I understand writing a book can take ten years. That's why I figure I better start now.

My therapist says I'm a bit more guarded now than when I first came to her fresh out of the partial hospitalization program. I think that's because in partial, having mental illness isn't associated with a flaw of character. As I have relearned to function in the real world, I also have relearned to repress my feelings. I am trying to be more mindful and less guarded. Even Jordan mentioned that it's okay to let myself be vulnerable. I'm bad at that. I am much more comfortable and unguarded in my writing. Maybe my guard up correlates with the fact that I haven't had time to write. Maybe I lost that connection somewhere--of being able to decipher what I feel.

I had an intense therapy session on Thursday where I realized I don't know what I feel about things very often. I get my feelings confused and they're so repressed, I don't know how to read the pure emotion that triggered whatever mess I may be feeling like.

Sundays are such a downer day. I feel pretty good because I conquered my awful week, but there is still that hint of Sunday loneliness on the horizon.

Bird by Bird

As Anne Lamott says, I'm taking it Bird by Bird. She talks about her brother doing this crazy overwhelming Bird Project when they were younger. Her brother was freaking out and their dad said, "Just take it bird by bird." I thought I'd be up all night doing this long paper, but I am at a stopping point where I only need to type 400 more words. That's nothing compared to what I've already typed. I am stuck, which is a problem, but even if I don't make it to the desired word count, I am at a place where I won't fail this paper. It's a huge paper, and it's worth a lot. I am so overwhelmed that I can't realistically shoot for success. I just need to get by, so I'm taking it bird by bird. Paper by paper, book by book, exam by exam, incomplete by incomplete. It makes me feel like I can't breathe if I think about all of that, so I don't. I think about it day by day.

It's hard to have much insight or passion when I'm so worn out. I apologize for not staying in touch with everyone like I would like to, but I am thankful for all of your support.

I'm trying to be optimistic even though school is crapping all over me right now. I can't wait for summer.

Endurance

A few days ago, I chose not to do my homework. I went skateboarding instead. I was just feeling restless and burnt out, so I figured instead of staring at my homework and getting angry, I would do something healthy. I had a blast skateboarding alongside the river. I realized I'd even missed the muddy smell of the river. Water, especially rivers, can be so healing. The sound of the river running, mixed with the idea that the river is never the same. It's constantly changing.

Laura and I sat on some rocks on the side of the river. We sat in silence for a moment, and had the honor of witnessing a muskrat swim right in front of us. We were so quiet, it didn't even notice us. It was just leisurely swimming only a few feet in front of us. They are so cute, although their tails are kind of gross like a rat.

Not long after, I was boarding, but I stopped to wait for Laura. As I stood there, another muskrat was swimming leisurely. By the time I tried to show it to Laura, I had scared it away. They sure swim fast when they are scared. At that point, I figured the muskrat must be a symbol for something. I don't know how I feel about signs, but I know I'm not against them, so something so obvious as two muskrats being incredibly close to me could mean something. I e-mailed Jon to ask what the muskrat means. He said they mean endurance. Like a spiritual horoscope, I interpreted it several ways to fit into my life.

I was at the river because I was bogged down by school. I need endurance to push on through the rest of this semester. Also, Laura and I were talking about her moving away. I think our friendship will be fine, but maybe we needed a reminder that endurance can apply to a friendship as well.

As we boarded home, we passed three deer. They, surprisingly, were not scared away by our noisy skateboards. We stopped and enjoyed several moments of just staring at them. They stared back at us, waiting to see if we were a threat. Two joggers even ran past, but they didn't even notice the deer, and the deer were not afraid. It almost felt magical.

Well, I'm off to do my million pages of homework. Wish me luck :)

AWP Denver

I'm back from my long weekend in Denver at a writing conference. It was even better than I expected it to be. I realized I need to be writing--no matter what the situation--must be putting pen to paper. It's a part of me. I lose myself if I stop writing. I haven't been writing at all this semester. I'm going to work harder to make time for it.

I met so many of my favorite writers and poets. Plus, I went to some exciting, informative break-out sessions. I wish I could write more, but I have to do math homework so I can go to bed. I've been up since 2am Denver time. Yuck. Need sleep.

Thinking Positive

It has been brought to my attention my last several blogs have been pessimistic. It's easy to get stuck in that thought-process. Thanks to lisa, one of my writing teachers, I have been reminded what looking to others for guidance can do.

Today I am thinking of a young man from the hospital. He came into my room and gave me a cup of popcorn they had made in the kitchen--even though patients are not allowed in other patients rooms. It was a very kind gesture, because I was isolating myself in my room.

Every day, they had us set daily goals. His was always, "to stay thinking positive," which always made me laugh because it is so vague. They usually liked us to set goals that could be measured and achieved for confidence building. He was so upbeat about it. They'd say, "What's your goal for today?" He'd answer, "Just to keep it positive. I'm gonna stay positive."

I'm so overwhelmed with school work. I think that is what is contributing to my mood. I'm working hard though, and setting little goals. The weather is beautiful, and I feel free walking around coatless.

My goal for tomorrow is to be more positive. I'm just gonna stay positive :)

Voice

It's easy for me to feel down sometimes about how I do not know how to be assertive. I blame the culture for this. Young girls are not taught how to be assertive. They are taught to be nice, polite, and to put themselves second. Sexism still exists, but I am really thankful to have a voice. I am always surprised by the acquaintances that tell me they read my blog. How fortunate am I to have a place to be heard? I just watched a film and heard the director speak about the youth in Iran. They are much more progressive than I thought, but they still have websites blocked by the government. I can be as political as I want on here and no one is going to stop me. What a beautiful thing freedom of speech is. I'm not very patriotic, but I am thankful to be in the United States.

When I get writers block, it's usually because I am tired of my voice. I realize women writers are still discriminated against in academia, but my creative writing professors are both men, and they are very supportive of my voice. They make me feel like I can and should be heard.

I still lose my voice from fear, but I wanted to celebrate being heard today. Thanks for reading and valuing my voice.

Get out of the Groove

I saw my psychiatrist and psychologist today. And for that reason, it was quite a day. I feel distant. My therapist referred to this melancholy that I'm in as a groove in a record, where the needle gets stuck easier after being stuck once. So, I'm stuck. I'm stuck in the same groove I slide into so easily.

My doctor suggested I drop a class. He said he would write a note to help me get some of my money back, but I do not think that is a possibility. I can drop the class, lose the money, and feel lazy, or I can keep going but let the pressure kick me down like it has been. I'm tired all of the time. When I was talking about my incompletes with my therapist, I got really tired. She could tell, and said it seemed like my overwhelmed feeling shuts down my brain and makes me tired.

I guess, I will check it all out in the morning. If I can wake up before the class I'm dropping.

Something's Missing

I haven't been writing for fun at all this semester. I've had too many papers and lots of homework. At first, it felt nice to have no pressure on me to be creative, but creativity is in my soul. If I go too long without a creative outlet, I get restless--depressed even. I feel a void in my life from not writing. It takes practice, though, and now that I've been away from it for so long, it is hard for me. Even if I allow myself some time to write, I just write a few sentences and quit. I am missing creative writing classes, peer reviewers, and deadlines. Not writing is good for me to help find balance in my life, but it's also bad for my mental health. I begin to feel like my life is meaningless. Writing allows me to reflect visually. It helps me find meaning in the mundane. I miss all my writing teachers. There's something really powerful about the relationship I have with my writing mentors. I feel understood when I have a writing mentor I really connect with.

I'm having trouble keeping up with school and making up work from last Spring. I don't know how they expect me to remember stuff from last Spring. It's just bad for my self-esteem to have all of these tasks I feel I'm not qualified for. I think life will start looking up after this semester. After this semester, I will have the worst behind me. I will be on a normal schedule; I won't have any work to make up. I will have creative writing classes again, and I will be looking into grad schools. The whole grad school thing could either be a huge dream-come-true, or a slap in the face. I plan on applying to some pretty prestigious programs. My professors have all been very supportive of me, leading me to believe I can get into a good program. Dream big, right? I'll be sure to include some smaller, back-up schools in my plan too. It's good to aim big, but I don't want to be unprepared either.

Sleep All Day

I slept all day. I hate doing that. It leaves me feeling worthless, groggy, guilty, and just plain lazy. Now, I probably won't be able to sleep; although, I'm still tired...so maybe. I've been sleeping too much. I'm discouraged with a ten page paper I'm supposed to be working on about Zen Buddhism.

I feel contemplative this evening after watching "Precious." Unfortunately, not creative enough to put my thoughts into words. I haven't been writing much this semester. It's my first semester without a creative writing class in years. It's kind of nice to just totally step away from writing and focus on school. I mean, I miss it a lot, and maybe I'd be less stressed if I was writing. It's nice to be taking a break though.

This turned out to be pointless. I was hoping to take advantage of my creative/contemplative mood. Just not feeling language tonight.

Zen

I'm writing a ten page paper on my favorite book The Great Failure and Zen Buddhism. It is driving me mad, but has also inspired a lot of good thought. I had to reread The Great Failure for the third time, and it never ceases to amaze me. I feel like it should be required reading for everyone. The way it emphasizes truth over everything is astounding.

I've also been reflecting on the way the word Zen has entered our Western vocabulary and is misused. There's a tea flavored "Zen" sold at Starbucks where people are too busy to even drink the damn tea in the coffee shop. The cup has to be "to go" so they can multi-task.

I think I want to be a Zen buddhist. I don't have the support or teachers in this area, but I'm the sort of person who loves religion and wants rituals and sacred spaces to cling to. I think Zen could one day fill that void in my life.

Woman Writer

In my Canadian Literature class, we've done a lot of reading about women writers. The struggles women have had to endure just to have a voice. My professor is from Germany, and he talked about how he will have mediocre young men come tell him they are applying over seas to Oxford while young women who are exceptional don't intend to apply. Usually they don't think they are good enough to get in, or they figure if they did, it wouldn't work out anyway.

Although women writers have become more acceptable, they are still the minority in academic, high-class, well respected literature. Sure, there are a lot of pop women authors but their target audience is either young adults or other women (romance novels). Women are thought to be too emotional and sentimental to really dig into a story.

In Margaret Atwood's essay, "On Being a 'Woman Writer': Paradoxes and Dilemmas," she gives several great examples of discrimination. In one, she mentions how a hard-hitting novel by a man is realistic, and a hard-hitting novel by a woman is "gutsy" "hard" "mean." She also discusses the way we look at a successful female writer. We view her as exceptional and view them as asexual. She claims a woman writer is only called a woman writer until she becomes successful--then she is just a writer.

As a woman writer, I want to believe things are better than when Atwood published this essay in 1976. She is a successful woman writer, so I am thankful to have role-models like her or Joyce Carol Oates who both reflect on being both a woman and writer. It boils down to identity. As Atwood says, "Woman and writer are separate categories; but in any individual woman writer, they are inseparable."

I have to write a paper about women writers. I don't even know where to begin. Booo to midterm papers.

Birthday Reflection

It's my birthday. Sort of. I have so much homework; I'm not even really sure where to begin. I wanted to take a moment to blog about how fortunate I feel to have such amazing friends. People were so thoughtful this year. People came out to my party that I hadn't seen in a while. A few friends drove long distances to make it out. People brought gifts--and really thoughtful ones at that. Drew got me this amazing 3-d frame. The photo is a landscape of S. Dakota, but in front of the photo is a toy buffalo. The buffalo is a Jesus-like figure in Lakota spirituality. Then, around the frame is a beautiful quote by the peaceful Chief Black Elk.

Tammy got me the second season of 30 Rock, which I am so excited to watch, a wonderful Yoga book, and sweetarts :) Rucha gave me different kinds of tea. Sailor's sister made me an adorable bag--like literally sewed me a cute handbag. It was such a surprise. I couldn't believe it. People bought me food, drinks, and gave me lots of hugs. I felt very loved. And then today, I'm feeling horrible because I just have more work than I can physically do, but Laura paid for me to get a massage from Tammy's sister, Elizabeth. It was just what I needed to help this negative mood I'm in due to school. A friend sent me a card that told me not to stress and, "there is so much more to life than school." I try to remind myself this because my perfectionism is just plain unhealthy with the circumstances I'm working under. It's so unrealistic for me to try and make up all of the work I missed last spring, in addition, to keeping up in my current classes. I'm working hard, though. I'm back to work. Just wanted to take a moment to reflect on how thankful I am--no matter how burnt out I may feel right now.

I'm behind in school from last spring. I'm working incredibly hard to catch up in addition to staying caught up in my current classes. It leaves me running around frantically and often showing up a day late and a dollar short. I'm still trying, though. Hopefully a better blog to come soon.

I'm Back

My cast is off, and I am typing with minimal wrist pain. This makes school and life easier. I intend to start blogging a bit more regularly again. It's been sunny the last couple of days, and I am thankful. This winter has not been as bad as last year, but I am still ready for spring. I was able to skateboard a bit with Jordan when he came up to visit on Thursday. It felt great. I can't wait for my wrist to heal and the snow to melt so I can hit the ramps again.

I'm amazed at the way time is flying. Soon, I will have to start attending classes from last spring to make up my work in there. I'm not looking forward to being that busy again. Monday, I am going to make up my first Spanish exam. I don't feel ready to take it, but I need to start digging into the workload in order to get credit for that class. I keep trying to remind myself that I don't need to get an A in every class. I think I'm even going to have to settle for a couple C's considering I am making up a third of my course work, which I have had to formal teaching for.

I don't like Sundays very much. I sleep late, feel groggy, stress about how much homework I have, try to do homework with a couple trips to the library, and never quite get ahead enough to relax. I'm tired. I'm at the library. I want to go home. I might just do that.

Still...

I still have my cast. It's driving me nuts. I can't wait to get rid of it. I've been told I'm missed in the blogging world, so I will try to say something worth reading. I am feeling stable these days. My therapist says I'm improving, and my psychiatrist isn't changing my meds anymore. He also was seeing me twice a month, and because I am a little more stable, I will only see him once a month.

School has been interesting. It's my first semester since sophomore year that I don't have a creative writing class. I have a Canadian Lit. class. It's all contemporary stuff, so I actually enjoy reading the novels. It is helpful because the class involved a ton of reading. I have a math class, which I haven't had since my freshman year. Lastly, I am in a history class about the middle east. I feel like I'm in high school again because I have regular homework and am studying things I know nothing about. It's a bit refreshing, but I am also still trying to make up work from last Spring. I feel burdened down with those incompletes.

I guess this is my only update for now. I've been making typos--aka adding extra spaces to everything because my thumb is in a cast, which just bumps the space bar every time I try to type. It's been a real pain for typing in my passwords or websites.

Sorry to complain

but being one handed is difficult. I feel like I can't do anything. I won't have a real entry for a while, at this rate. My cast is bulky and sometimes rubs against the incision when I type. Therefore, I don't type like I should. My apologies for not keeping in touch as well as I'd like with everyone. Don't take it personal. Hope this finds you all well.

New Years Resolutions

1. Stay out of the hospital

2. Use healthy coping strategies

3. Be more forgiving of myself

4. Conquer the ramp that broke my arm

5. Lose the ten pounds my meds made me gain

6. Continue to work hard in therapy

7. Finish books I start

8. Finish my poetry portfolio

9. Complete my incompletes

10. Be more assertive, making a conscious effort not to feel guilty about it