Tuesday (I could sleep for a week) Musings

I don’t know why I’m so tired this week, but exhaustion seems to keep creeping into my day. I went to bed early last night and even took a nap in the middle of the afternoon, but my energy level still feels below par. I hope this isn’t a sign that I’m getting sick, because that would not be good.

Low Flying Swallows A Sign of Rain

Plugged by a twelve gauge,
the Road Curves sign became, overnight,
an inscrutable glyph. Snuff-colored
outcrops stained dark by rain
and striped by drill scars
bracket the interstate. Folds in rock
and refolded folds in their peripheral
skirts. Hummingbirds dip their beaks
in the stoop of clematis you planted.
When had I kissed you like that?
An lo moth on the screen it flashes
its hind wings and flaps audibly off.
You and I semi-reading on the couch
wondering where our son is. A page
falls from the music stand. The ceiling
fan whirs, the dog sprawled under it.

Forrest Gander

Saturday (Overextended) Musings

I woke up this morning at 7:45. For a weekend, that’s pretty darn early. I had made a commitment, but when my alarm went off I was reminded why my weekends are so sacred to me. This week has been a killer. I feel like I’ve been just barely keeping up, and while next week promises to be better, I really needed this weekend to regroup.

I think it is important to know your limits in terms of scheduling. I’m very conscious of this because I learned a long time ago (when I was in middle school) that when I over commit myself, I start to get over tired and when I start to get over tired, well everything falls apart. I like being involved in a variety of things that revolve around my career and my personal life, but I think there comes a point when you just have to make time for yourself. I got over feeling guilty about this along time ago. What prompted me to think about it was a comment that a colleague made on Friday during our cooking class. Basically this woman said she felt guilty for taking three hours out to come and do something that wasn’t relate to work. I think this is how a lot of people feel, and I think it’s sad. You shouldn’t feel guilty about taking time for yourself. Everything gets done one way or the other.

I stayed up late last night baking two loaves of whole wheat bread for RJ to take home to various people. I’m officially in love with my bread machine. I’m making honey banana bread tomorrow. I’m also making this recipe that we learned in my cooking class on Friday:

Power Spheres

3/4 cup dried apricots
3/4 cup of dried apples
4 brown rice cakes
1 cup of unsweetened coconut
1/2 cup of sunflower seeds
1/2 cup of pumpkin seeds
1/3 cup of sesame seeds
1 cup of rolled oats
1 1/4 cups of fruit sweetener
1/2 cup of natural peanut butter, slightly warmed

1. In food processor, pulse the apricots, apples and rice cakes to a fine mixture. Transfer to large bowl and set aside.

2. Next, pulse the coconut, seeds and oats to roughly combine. Add the fruit mixture. Also add the fruit sweetener and peanut butter.

3. Mix and combine. Chill for one hour.

4. Roll the dough into about 2 oz. balls. Roll in sesame seeds to combine. Serve or wrap in plastic and refrigerate.

*These make excellent healthy snacks.

RJ and I have decided to join a CSA (community supported agriculture). The name of the farm is Seldom Seen Farm and they’ve agreed to arrange a drop point at school, which is awesome. I’m going to put a link to their site under my “Worthy of a Look Section.” Check it out.

Thursday (Exahustion) Musings

I’m tired. My eyes are tired. It has gotten to the point where I have enhanced the size of my computer screen because the regular sized font is starting to blur. Part of the problem is these fluorescent lights. But mostly I’m tired, and while the end of the week is in sight, I don’t think there is going to be any rest for me until after the first of the year.

Earlier this week, I was completely taken with the issue of Poetry I had bought at our local newsstand. I sent out my subscription letter (something I’ve been meaning to do for months) and set about to reading the great Adam Kirsch essay and the reviews. The essay was great, and I’m sure I’ll also enjoy A Guildhall Summons: Poetry, Politics, and Leanings Left, too. However, the first set of reviews by Carmine Starnino, well enjoy is not exactly the word I would use.

I have not read the Boland book or any of the books for that matter, that Starnino reviewed. Between my thesis, teaching four courses, the creative writing club, and life, my reading time has been cut down quite a bit this semester. I’ll be better in the spring.

All that aside, I can see why one of my fellow poets had this to say about Poetry: “I either want to call everyone I know and tell them about the issue or I want to throw it against a wall.” That’s pretty much how I felt when I read those reviews last night.

While it obvious that Starnino is knowledgeable and highly intelligent, it is also obvious that he knows it. It may be because I find myself constantly defending poetry and poets to my students who accuse both of being pretentious and high brow, that I’m particularly sensitive to snobbery. At times the condensation seems to come through a little too much. I mean if a book isn’t any good, it isn’t any good but I felt like with some of these reviews (Boland especially) the books were being shot, hacked up, buried underground, and then a high rise was built on top of the grave site.

That being said, he did convince me to check out The Currach Requires No Harbours.

Visual Poetry?

Tuesday (Grumpy) Musings

Here is the fall poem of the week. This will be the last one, and then I’m going to start moving into winter…


In every room. encircled by a name-
less Southern boy from Yale,
There was my younger sister singing a Fellini theme
And making phone calls
While the rest of us kept moving her discarded boots
Or sat and drank. Outside, in twenty-
nine degrees, a stray cat
Grazed our driveway,
Seeking waste. It scratched the pail.
There were no other sounds.
Yet on and on the preparation of that vast consoling meal
Edged toward the stove. My mother
Had the skewers in her hands.
I watched her tucking skin
As though she missed her young, while bits of onion
Misted snow over the pronged death.

Louise Glück
Today has been a killer day. I stayed up too late last night watching some low budget horror movie on AMC. I think it was called Return to the House on Haunted Hill or something equally terrible. As a result of staying up too late, I went to bed late and woke up too early, and that has resulted in me being cranky throughout most of the morning. I started to recover during my creative writing class, which I love. Today we talked about Carolyn Forché and Maxine Kumin. I have them reading The Things They Carried for next week and then we’re moving into poetry.


Tuesday (yawn) Musings

I’m tired. It’s Tuesday afternoon. This is not a good sign. I need to stop scheduling my weekends so tightly because I’m not getting a chance to recharge which will only lead to bad things.

Today feels especially fall like. Although, I have not seen a window since my 11:00 class, so it could be balmy and sunny by now.

Coughing and sniffling has started. Bah.

This is kind of unfortunate. You know things are backwards when a dance studio is being put out by a Banana Republic.

This is really unfortunate.