Every school had them: the kids that didn't go straight into first grade but were in a limbo year after kindergarten. At my elementary school, they called it Readiness, which, in retrospect, was kind of a direct title. I knew some folks that went into it (as in, "Where's my friend from last year?") and some folks that came out of it and they seemed cool, except that they had this issue with self-esteem (which I myself have struggled with most of my life) in the sense that they knew they were behind people their own age, suffering from the same "Where's my friend from last year?" syndrome.
Of late, I have felt the same way, like I'm greatly behind on my career or something. I feel like I'm well ahead in life, in that I'm married and in a few years, plan to start a family. All that seems to be well in progressing.
But career-wise, and maybe talent wise, I feel like I'm not developing- like I'm behind those of my numerical age group. While this isn't necessarily a bad thing, it's very easy to look around and feel that others are progressing at a good rate and look at myself and realize I am not. Three years down in Iowa City and one to go, I wonder what I can do for myself to feel better about my position. Certainly the idea of getting out of the current job and perhaps into school will *feel* like progress, but what if I don't get into school? I certainly don't think I have the energy to keep failing at my hopes of an academic career, or at least more degrees. So what will I do with my life?
I think I will keep writing, but what will be the motivation? While I'm sure many would say there is no MFA glass ceiling, they generally aren't the ones looking up through it and knocking. I suppose the question even right now is about what has kept me writing during my three years in Iowa City? Is it something I feel I'm good at, or have I stopped developing on my own? I feel like I've gone as far as I can writing by myself right now with the only feedback being the occasional Johannes response and the equally occasional "I like the poems, but they're not the right fit for issue N." While this all has helped me develop, I feel like I need some kind of dedicated time and place to write. And I'm not talking about a schedule or a sturdy table with good light. I'm talking about a place mentally where I feel like I can concentrate on writing and concentrate on reading more and more. That's really what I want to do and that's really why I want to go to an MFA program. I want someone to give me the go ahead that I can dedicate myself to it for the long haul. I want someone to validate the life I want to have. I want to plan something and have it work out!
Speaking of, I mention that because nothing I have really *planned* has worked out: everything has either literally or metaphorically fallen into my lap, from Jennifer to Iowa. While I would certainly say I've been lucky, I just want, for once, something I've worked towards to work out. Call it whiny (I know it is), but it seems like at some point, you have to make things to fall into place and can't just wait for them to happen. However, so far, I've been better off just waiting, it seems. But how long can I wait until I'm happy with something career-wise that comes to me?
Or maybe this is it. Maybe this is as good as it gets. This library job. This insurance. This life that pays the bills and helps my wife follow her career plans- maybe that's supposed to be enough for me and I'm supposed to just stop and enjoy it rather than hoping to improve. But it's kind of hard at 25 to give up and say this is it. It's equally easy at 25, I know, to say "this is how it will always be and nothing good will come to me," and that's equally stupid.
But maybe just a bit easier, eh?
Showing posts with label Iowa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Iowa. Show all posts
11/8/07
Iowa City (2007)
My goals with this post are a) to discuss the bearable nature of Iowa City during 2007 and b) post something substantial.
When we moved here in the August of 2005, I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed: I expected things would go my way and that I would ultimately end up doing that which I wanted to do before coming to Iowa City. I assumed working would be temporary and that, because I had access to the Workshop populace, I would make it in on my next application.
Well, as you readers of this blog know, that did not happen, but it's hard to argue with what has happened during my time here. I have been thinking of late how Iowa City has been my wasteland, where I've essentially accomplished nothing I set out to accomplish. But this is not true! "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans"?
Yeah, that sounds right to me now. While life is still in the same direction I want it to go in, I think I've accomplished more of what Johannes wanted me to during my time "off": I've been writing and (hopefully) improving as I've gone along. Whether or not I've fulfilled Johannes' expectations, I have no idea, but I still have another year before making plans to leave Iowa City and two years before we actually get out of here. Hopefully that's enough time.
In writing, in taking stock, and in being patient, I've met the fantastic champion that is Jordan Stempleman. Joseph Bradshaw's introduction of him last night at TalkArt could not have been more true: rather than shouting "Fuck y'all!" down the well, Jordan is one to shout "Hello!" But I think what's beautiful about Jordan is that he's expecting to hear back from the well not his voice, but the voice of the well.
Earlier this year, Jordan shouted into a well. And he shouted again. And he left a note "from one poet to another", and finally, he heard the voice of the well say hello back. But meeting Jordan has not been the only positive of this year as a 'poet' in Iowa City, it's what he's brought with him. He's introduced me to so many wonderful folks, including Bradshaw, Michelle Taransky, Kevin Holden, and a host of other students who attend the Workshop. For the 18 months prior to meeting Jordan, I felt too intimidated to attend anything either at Dey House or anything run by Workshop-affiliated people. I was so nervous when Jordan introduced me to Dean Young and Jim Galvin that I nearly started crying. Of course, after being introduced, I was able to relax and take things in stride. These aren't some poetry Gods who dangle the knife over my poetic fate: they are simply trying to pick what is right for their place at the time, and for me to have placed them so highly in my mind was childish and naive.
Now though, I'm not quite so afraid. When asked to attend the translation workshop run by the MFA in Translation through the Comparative Literature department, I took it as an opportunity to talk with international writers and do course work without having to deal with pesky grades. Through that, I've come to thinking about international literature and how it affects writing in my little corner of Iowa City. My poetry has changed and my thoughts on poetics have developed into something more substantial. I guess I'm saying I think more about what I'm doing instead of just doing it as I had been in the past.
So what I believed to be a wasted time in my life is turning out to be something much more positive. Even if I did not plan to be doing what I'm doing, one could certainly argue that it is what needed to happen. But am I happy all the time? Of course not- I still hate getting up and going to work and I still growl in my mind when I feel someone talking down to the "dude down at Media Services". I'm not perfect, obviously, but I think that I have come to understand better what I can do with what I've got.
2007 isn't over, of course, but it's time to start looking towards 2008. During the next 18 months, I will be choosing schools to apply to for an MFA (with a few English Master's programs as well). I will have applied and even heard back by May 2008. I might even know where I'm moving to by then. Granted, this could go horribly and I could end up working again, but I think I'm prepared to handle it now in a way that I was not prepared even earlier this year with the English Ph.D. application. I'm not making any promises, but I think I'll be able to handle the pressure better now. Hopefully there will be no tossing and turning like I have been over the last few years while waiting to hear back.
And while I hope it works out for me next time, if it doesn't, that's ok too. Well, maybe not ok right away, but I know that it will be ok eventually.
When we moved here in the August of 2005, I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed: I expected things would go my way and that I would ultimately end up doing that which I wanted to do before coming to Iowa City. I assumed working would be temporary and that, because I had access to the Workshop populace, I would make it in on my next application.
Well, as you readers of this blog know, that did not happen, but it's hard to argue with what has happened during my time here. I have been thinking of late how Iowa City has been my wasteland, where I've essentially accomplished nothing I set out to accomplish. But this is not true! "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans"?
Yeah, that sounds right to me now. While life is still in the same direction I want it to go in, I think I've accomplished more of what Johannes wanted me to during my time "off": I've been writing and (hopefully) improving as I've gone along. Whether or not I've fulfilled Johannes' expectations, I have no idea, but I still have another year before making plans to leave Iowa City and two years before we actually get out of here. Hopefully that's enough time.
In writing, in taking stock, and in being patient, I've met the fantastic champion that is Jordan Stempleman. Joseph Bradshaw's introduction of him last night at TalkArt could not have been more true: rather than shouting "Fuck y'all!" down the well, Jordan is one to shout "Hello!" But I think what's beautiful about Jordan is that he's expecting to hear back from the well not his voice, but the voice of the well.
Earlier this year, Jordan shouted into a well. And he shouted again. And he left a note "from one poet to another", and finally, he heard the voice of the well say hello back. But meeting Jordan has not been the only positive of this year as a 'poet' in Iowa City, it's what he's brought with him. He's introduced me to so many wonderful folks, including Bradshaw, Michelle Taransky, Kevin Holden, and a host of other students who attend the Workshop. For the 18 months prior to meeting Jordan, I felt too intimidated to attend anything either at Dey House or anything run by Workshop-affiliated people. I was so nervous when Jordan introduced me to Dean Young and Jim Galvin that I nearly started crying. Of course, after being introduced, I was able to relax and take things in stride. These aren't some poetry Gods who dangle the knife over my poetic fate: they are simply trying to pick what is right for their place at the time, and for me to have placed them so highly in my mind was childish and naive.
Now though, I'm not quite so afraid. When asked to attend the translation workshop run by the MFA in Translation through the Comparative Literature department, I took it as an opportunity to talk with international writers and do course work without having to deal with pesky grades. Through that, I've come to thinking about international literature and how it affects writing in my little corner of Iowa City. My poetry has changed and my thoughts on poetics have developed into something more substantial. I guess I'm saying I think more about what I'm doing instead of just doing it as I had been in the past.
So what I believed to be a wasted time in my life is turning out to be something much more positive. Even if I did not plan to be doing what I'm doing, one could certainly argue that it is what needed to happen. But am I happy all the time? Of course not- I still hate getting up and going to work and I still growl in my mind when I feel someone talking down to the "dude down at Media Services". I'm not perfect, obviously, but I think that I have come to understand better what I can do with what I've got.
2007 isn't over, of course, but it's time to start looking towards 2008. During the next 18 months, I will be choosing schools to apply to for an MFA (with a few English Master's programs as well). I will have applied and even heard back by May 2008. I might even know where I'm moving to by then. Granted, this could go horribly and I could end up working again, but I think I'm prepared to handle it now in a way that I was not prepared even earlier this year with the English Ph.D. application. I'm not making any promises, but I think I'll be able to handle the pressure better now. Hopefully there will be no tossing and turning like I have been over the last few years while waiting to hear back.
And while I hope it works out for me next time, if it doesn't, that's ok too. Well, maybe not ok right away, but I know that it will be ok eventually.
1/20/07
I Just Saw Myself on Television
I was on the local news because today. John Edwards came to Iowa City.
He spoke for a few minutes and then took questions, including one from Jennifer on prescription drugs and pharmaceutical lobbies and their power in Washington. It was an obvious jab at Hillary Clinton and the fact that, not only has she taken tons of money from lobbyists, one of her big supporters are pharmaceutical companies. So much for the "Health care for everybody" days for her husband's administration.
He didn't really answer the question, but he did say, "I have never taken any money from the lobbyists." Now, I don't know if it's true or not, but it seems like a bad thing to lie about.
What I liked about Edwards was his honesty and his candor. No, I don't agree with Edwards on the issue of gay marriage, but I appreciate that it's causing what he called a "conflict within" himself and that he spoke about it.
Afterwards, just after he signed Jennifer's notebook, I shook his hand, then grabbed his arm and told him that while I didn't agree with everything that he said, I appreciated that he took the time to say it. Susie, the friend with us, agree that he looked at me very intensely, happy that his concept had worked on at least one person.
It's kind of blurry now, but right around this time, we handed out fellow Southerner a Southern delicacy:
That's Susie with the Moon Pie we'd held onto for her that I convinced (read: forced) her to give to Edwards. He laughed, saying he loved Moon Pies, and I told him we thought it perfect to give to a fellow Southerner, and he laughed again. He then handed it to an aide of his.
Susie and I played out what we believed the conversation would be later:
Edwards: So can I have that Moon Pie?
Aide: You wanted it?
Edwards: Ugh, yeah. Do you still have it?
Aide: Um, no I threw it away.
Edwards (lowering eyes): You bastard.
At this point, Edwards either fires or maims the Aide.
We also met and shook hands with his wife. They both signed Jennifer's notebook:
Great moment from the beginning: Mrs. Edwards was fielding a question (something on what she would be doing while First Lady, as opposed to Tipsy Bush's current job) and her husband stood quietly by. A moment later, I could see him eyeing her leg, and then the crowd, and then her leg again. I noticed too: her pant leg was up above her sock.
So he did what any husband would do and fixed it! She then kissed her husband and thanked him.She laughed, saying she could feel it, but that there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn't a fake Tipper/Al Gore thing, or even a Michael Jackson/Lisa Marie thing. It seemed real, like to *real* people that are married.
My friend Bobby, now living in D.C. with hopes of a job in politics on the horizon, stated he likes Obama now more than Edwards. I must admit I do like Obama, but Edwards to me seems like he's used his time off wisely: He's travelled and done some good and interesting things. I think he's ready for the top of a ticket now.
So if one of Edward's folks is reading this, you've got my vote.
He spoke for a few minutes and then took questions, including one from Jennifer on prescription drugs and pharmaceutical lobbies and their power in Washington. It was an obvious jab at Hillary Clinton and the fact that, not only has she taken tons of money from lobbyists, one of her big supporters are pharmaceutical companies. So much for the "Health care for everybody" days for her husband's administration.
He didn't really answer the question, but he did say, "I have never taken any money from the lobbyists." Now, I don't know if it's true or not, but it seems like a bad thing to lie about.
What I liked about Edwards was his honesty and his candor. No, I don't agree with Edwards on the issue of gay marriage, but I appreciate that it's causing what he called a "conflict within" himself and that he spoke about it.
Afterwards, just after he signed Jennifer's notebook, I shook his hand, then grabbed his arm and told him that while I didn't agree with everything that he said, I appreciated that he took the time to say it. Susie, the friend with us, agree that he looked at me very intensely, happy that his concept had worked on at least one person.It's kind of blurry now, but right around this time, we handed out fellow Southerner a Southern delicacy:
That's Susie with the Moon Pie we'd held onto for her that I convinced (read: forced) her to give to Edwards. He laughed, saying he loved Moon Pies, and I told him we thought it perfect to give to a fellow Southerner, and he laughed again. He then handed it to an aide of his. Susie and I played out what we believed the conversation would be later:
Edwards: So can I have that Moon Pie?
Aide: You wanted it?
Edwards: Ugh, yeah. Do you still have it?
Aide: Um, no I threw it away.
Edwards (lowering eyes): You bastard.
At this point, Edwards either fires or maims the Aide.
We also met and shook hands with his wife. They both signed Jennifer's notebook:
Great moment from the beginning: Mrs. Edwards was fielding a question (something on what she would be doing while First Lady, as opposed to Tipsy Bush's current job) and her husband stood quietly by. A moment later, I could see him eyeing her leg, and then the crowd, and then her leg again. I noticed too: her pant leg was up above her sock.
So he did what any husband would do and fixed it! She then kissed her husband and thanked him.She laughed, saying she could feel it, but that there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn't a fake Tipper/Al Gore thing, or even a Michael Jackson/Lisa Marie thing. It seemed real, like to *real* people that are married.
My friend Bobby, now living in D.C. with hopes of a job in politics on the horizon, stated he likes Obama now more than Edwards. I must admit I do like Obama, but Edwards to me seems like he's used his time off wisely: He's travelled and done some good and interesting things. I think he's ready for the top of a ticket now.
So if one of Edward's folks is reading this, you've got my vote.
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