I’m allllmost done with my application process for school. It’s funny how quickly one’s anxiety can turn into a great bit ball of anticipation and excitement. Truly, the main source of the anxiety is doubting my own ability to do my best, which is a silly-silly doubt if you just stop and think about it. “Stop and think” sounds like such an easy reflex but sometimes the mind has a way of bypassing this step, taking me right to worst fear city. I am an academic spirit at heart and I know that once the application process is complete and I meet with an advisor/get my classes in order, I’ll be one very happy lady. I know that sometimes paperwork & process can get overwhelming and even discouraging but I am focused on trudging through the forms and fill-outs to get where I want to be. The only way is through.

Yesterday I rode over to the library for a poetry reading. Both of the women reading were also professors. I really attached myself to Barbara’s poems about her family. Her poems had a way of leading me along very nicely by the brain and then WHAM–something in the middle would sink an arrow into the thickest meat of my heart. I loved that she invited Sharon(the other poet reading) to help her read a poem–they had a back/forth that reminded me of the piece that Renee and I wrote together(oh my dear lady we should write more!) and I couldn’t help but grin while watching them overlap the ends of their sentiments perfectly. Sharon had an affection for rhythm and sound and I loved that she had no qualms about telling the audience this before she began her set. She played the guitar for one poem and all my internal light bulbs started tinkering to life. I’m so happy that I attended. Next month(October 19th), Jan Beatty and Tess Barry will be reading.

After the reading, I went out to watch the Steelers game with James and Laura. We spent at least an hour trying to convince James to dress up as Sigourney Weaver (Ghostbusters era, to be exact) for Halloween, but he wouldn’t budge. I will not give up hope! I kept yelling at the television screen(oh cathartic, frustrating football). J and L had to split early to attend a prior engagement, so I walked to Katie’s new place of residence and continued my yelling at the television in her room. She picked this brilliant blue/teal kaPOW paint for the walls. I was a little worried about the fumes triggering my migraines but the windows were open and everything was fine. I like the smell, but I don’t like what the smell will do to my noggin. We watched the McCain and Obama interviews on 60 minutes and I helped her slap the blue on the last bare walls. There’s something incredibly romantic and relaxing about rolling color on a large scale. During the walk home I told myself to paint more. I have a bit at home but need to stock up on that, and some canvas.

I ended up sitting on the porch last night for a while in the dark, listening to music and watching the towers blink red in the distance. I felt that deepbelly shiver of a true sort of happy. The entire day seemed to lead up to that feeling.

During my lunch today I ended up in the elevator named Betsy(named by a staff worker who physically has to make sure the doors close all the way before continuing onto the next floor). I get a kick out of the older women and their impatient sighs when Betsy decides to stop on ANOTHER floor before theirs. Oh ladies, it’s an elevator in a very large building—you should try on some patience. It’s quite becoming. But it takes all kinds I guess. I just smile to myself and appreciate the fact that I can enjoy the journey. I used to get frustrated with the unnecessary frustration/impatience of others, but really, that’s their reaction to deal with not mine. And doesn’t getting frustrated at them put me on the same playing field? Unnecessary energy towards something outside of my control? It’s a simple thing but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.

Renee hooked me up with information on a poetry discussion panel, taking place the second Thursday of every month. They kick things off in October with Emily Dickinson. I’m going to go to the November 13th discussion, which is e. e. cummings. Three poems will be discussed and I cannot wait to go to this. If you know me then you know how I feel about cummings. I’m beyond excited when I think about going somewhere to talk about my most favorite poet and his work. So glad it’s a reality and not just a dreamy concept in my head. Oh, and the event is free and open to the public(they encourage registration but it isn’t necessary). If you’re interested in attending, let me know.

I think all the no-sleep stole my words away. Everything’s taken a turn for the internal–I journal by hand more than I update on here. I guess it’s what I need right now. Hold tight. I’ll be back to it shortly.

Marty McConnell posted this in her journal. I thought I would follow suit:

Envoy Prayer
Kate Knapp Johnson

There’s not a corner, in all the world,
without its shallow grave –
mourned, unmourned, each
tucked under a shroud of grass. I know
in all the earth there’s not a plot of ground
where someone is not quietly gathering
an arsenal, mixing nitrates,
inventing a more economical manner
of death – nor one chamber

of the heart that hasn’t been stolen into
and darkened… But the first winds of spring
rise till the dogwood
extends herself in her white-tiered gown;
the stones hold their witness inside
while the finches and jays spill over
the edges of a single hour.

On TV last night, a man was speaking:
“I was running, carrying my son on my shoulders
when the soldiers shot him…why
was I running? It was my home…”
The man’s face was entirely covered
by his hands as if what he had seen
was so clear to him and so terrible
he was ashamed of surviving,
ashamed of being a man… And still

there are flowers like trumpets, flowers like stars –
two girls sail their bright-tailed kite over the schoolyard
while the lilacs snow down –
honey peach, and honey pear, each gift
ravishes, and restores in us
what will also be broken again
and again, without reconciliation. Lord,

do not save us
from this world.
Save us in it.

The heat split. Outside, it feels like September. The fences match the sky, the wind started kicking leaves down the street. It’s exciting to step on the porch and get a legitimate chill from the air.

Yes, I need to start a fall music compilation soon.

Oh and right around the corner? A little bit of this:

Well, obviously. Football.

Stephanie and her husband Christian were severely injured in a plane crash mid-August. They have 4 small children together. They have a very slow(and very expensive) recovery from their severe burn injuries.

Click here
if you wish to donate and/or send your thoughts for Stephanie, Christian, and their family.

No, I do not know them personally. But this is the positive nature of the internet–the power to bring a new community of people together to support others when they need it the most. The more eyes/ears/hearts/thoughts on this matter, the better.

All summer long, I anticipated change. Now change is the tour de force, and I have one hand holding onto my hat and the other cupped against the heart. Hellbent on staying in tune with what drives me, moves me, pushes me..now more than ever.

(more…)

After this, one more day of work left. I’m amused by what’s happening. Certain people have stopped talking to me pretty much altogether, while others are talking to me for the first time..wishing me luck, asking me what comes next. Exit interview tomorrow. I crack my knuckles in anticipation. I’ll leave it at this: I have some things to say.

I’m nervous, so nervous. My plans unfortunately fell through for tonight so maybe I’ll just practice guitar, meditate on what’s coming. Write my heart out, pack for the trip to see the family. And wait. Wait like a champ.

I feel like disappearing. I guess I’m kind of doing that by getting out of town this weekend. Eh, I don’t know. I’m tired and stressed and I feel unbelieveably disconnected.

Friday is my last day of work at the current job. I’ve been there for two years now, and despite the grumblings, I’m sad to go. I will definitely miss the people I work with. It just wasn’t for me, and more importantly. I’m after a much larger picture. Monday I start working at Pitt, and I begin the admission process for going back to school. As with most jobs I have a grace period, and once that passes, I will start classes. I’ve wanted to go back for a long time, and now I am.

I’ve been working downtown since 2001, give or take a few breaks in employment while working the odd/adventurous job elsewhere. I’m so familiar with the downtown environment that it’s kind of creepy. I get off the bus, and the business mode kicks in. It’s a strange world to enter five days a week. I do not go downtown for anything else, save the odd show here or there.

Next week I will start working on a college campus, and I welcome the difference. But oh my am I nervous, and anxious, excited. Katie and I were talking about how crippling the anxiety over leaving a job/starting a new one can be. It is a bit nerve wrecking. I’m going to visit my family in Ohio for the weekend before the new venture starts, and hopefully that will provide me some much needed space to calm myself down, and meditate on all the good-good things ahead of me. I know that change can be hard, and this is a big one. I’m trying to handle it as best as I can, but I will admit that tonight I feel overwhelmed by all things turning, altering shape. I have been anticipating change all summer long—sometimes you can just feel it coming, but you have to be patient and accepting of the fact that you cannot define it just yet. Then change happens and quite quickly you feel umprepared; one foot feels around for the invisible brake. But once the motion has started…well. Take note that the brake is invisible, mythical.

Enter deep breath. It kind of feels like everything starts here. I’m going to start focusing on the studies ahead of me, continue work on my writing and on the self, and just be strong for what is next. I wish I wasn’t so nervous, but….it’s energy that I can use.

Came home to find a sharply dressed amazing someone in the hammock, waiting with shiny shoes crossed and Spak’s take-out.

Now that’s what I call wonderful.

I wish I could explain how excited I am for the reading tomorrow, to get on stage because it’s been a while. Just know this heart wants to bust. Writing means the world to me.