Dreaming of Other Career Paths

One of my South Carolina friends wrote to me about her niece (who is about 22 years old) who is launching an Etsy site and trying to sell her crafts. I feel oddly jealous. No, jealous is the wrong word--too many negative connotations. I envy that youthful energy. I wish that I had this kind of new project (but I don't, do I? If I did, I'd launch it).

I've been following Kristy Bowen's blog for a while. I'm fascinated by her ability to run a micropress and an Etsy site and to make it all look blissful and effortless.

Now I know that she has to hold down a regular job (in a library, I'm surmising) to keep all of this going. I try to be realistic. But some part of me just yearns for something different. I try to be grateful that I have a job that funds my daily needs and creative needs and wants.

My response to the normal irritations of my job (last week, I found myself having to revisit and redo part of the Summer schedule for at least the 4th time, due to no fault of my own) lately seems to be looking at online graduate programs. Yes, I have a Ph.D. in English. What would be the point of an additional degree?

But it's not my logical brain that goes to these sites. A few weeks ago, I contemplated a Biology program (for several reasons, not the least of which is that I was enjoying Natalie Angier's book, The Canon). Last night, I went to this site to read about their graduate certificate that might qualify me to be a spiritual director.

So far, I've always come to my senses before I plunked down any money.

So, I'm trying to turn my frustrations into something positive: dreaming of land in the country! A creative retreat center! A place to flee to when Florida is under water (a friend with a scientist father thinks we have 10 years--yikes). Perhaps it's no more constructive a response than enrolling in an online graduate program or launching an Etsy site (since I don't have time to do the crafts I would need to do to fill the orders). But at least it's cheaper. At least it is until I start looking at actual land options.

More on Twittering and other Electronics

For those of you still wondering what all the Twitter fuss is about, I point your attention to this Washington Post article. It's the first thing I've read that made me feel almost enthusiastic about Twitter. As I've said before, and recently, I can hardly manage the technology that's in my life right now.

Kelli Russell Agodon has blogged enthusiastically about her iTouch here. Her post almost convinces me. Back in February, I was on a plane, where the space was so small, I could hardly hold my hardcover book open. I found myself longing for a small electronic gadget that would take up less space. I was also fresh from my reading at the Library of Congress, and feeling inspired. I found myself wishing for an electronic gadget that would let me carry all my computer files with me. It's the first time I understood the appeal of Blackberries and the like.

Lately, I'm a woman of many calendars, another experience that's helping me understand the appeal of electronics. Unfortunately, even if I got such a gadget, the IT department at my school is very strict about who can use their personal electronics with the school equipment. I kind of understand. Still, at the same time, it's frustrating to have all these media who can't communicate with each other.

For those of you who are tired of reading about gadgets, head on over to the Delirious Hem blogsite (a note for future readers, who may surf over after the blog has moved on to something else--go to the May 8, 2009 entry to get started). They're doing an amazing series on what being a feminist means today. I'm 43, so some of these poets seem young to me. And yet, how disheartening to read that they're still experiencing some of the same things. Still, lots of opportunity for hope, as you'll read.

I first fell in love with this blog when they did their series on the Gurlesque (here). I eagerly await the book that will come out some time this year.

What Temptation Looks Like from Here

With everyone posting pictures of their pretty Spring flowers, I couldn't resist some pictures of tropical fruit. As mangoes ripen, they glow red from the green trees. I've been thinking of the Adam and Eve story, and the fact that Milton chose apples as the fruit of temptation. But mangoes--ah, mangoes! Those would be a better choice. Surely the Garden of Eden was tropical--or perhaps it was a truly magical place where fruit and vegetables from every agricultural zone grew side by side.



I included the picture below, even though it's a bit of a disappointment. I couldn't capture the color of the one ripe mango. But it does show all of you non-tropical people how mangoes grow. Ten years ago, we moved down here, and I was shocked at how much of the foliage was utterly unfamiliar. I saw these almost sinister ropes hanging down from trees. It was only later that I said, "We've got mangoes growing all around us!" And mangoes fresh off the tree are so different from any mangoes I had while living up north; those mangoes were stringy and odd. Kurt Vonnegut once said the mangoes taste like peaches soaked in kerosene, but he should have had one of my friend Andrea's mangoes--those would have changed his mind!

You'll also notice a Pooh Bear hanging from the tree. He's been there for several weeks. I don't know why. This tree isn't mine. It's my neighbor's. But the mangoes hang so temptingly above my fence. My mango tree, alas, has all of about 9 mangoes on it. It's never produced well. The birds and insects eat the buds.

So, perhaps these images will give you ideas for poems. Or perhaps they'll just make you happy to be in a land where you recognize the foliage. Or maybe you'll yearn for a tropical vacation--now is the time! The northern crowds have gone, and we had a terrible tourist season. You can probably pick up a good deal from our hurting industry.

Independent Musicians and the Internet--Any Lessons for Writers?

I continue to be intrigued by all the ways the Internet, and faster Internet connections, creates possibilities that wouldn't have been there ten or twenty years ago. And since I've always wished for musical talent, stories about musicians call to me more than say, stories about stockbrokers. And there's always the hope that stories about creative people will inspire me, even if they're working in a different discipline.

Today's story in The Washington Post intrigued me because the musician built his audience by posting a song a week on his blog. He's become successful with no radio airplay--that would have been close to impossible twenty years ago. He decides which cities to visit by how many people write to him to request that he visit. He prints T-shirts and burns CDs on demand, so he's not lugging around excess inventory.

It's that song a week on the blog that hooked me. At some point, I plan to see if my acceptances have risen since I created my blog and my website. I feel like they have, but I haven't looked at my records to be sure. And I like to think that by the time of my next book publication, whenever that may be, I'll have created a wider audience by my blogging efforts. I know that I've bought books by poets who have created blogs that I enjoy.

And of you're really interested in these stories about how technology is changing the daily fabric of our lives, you might read this story while you're at The Washington Post website. It talks about the way we're watching T.V. programs, while not necessarily watching the T.V. What impact might that development have on poetry? Right now, I'd tell you not much--but then again, ten years ago, I wouldn't have conceived of all the intriguing ways we're using the Internet.

Of Perspiration and Inspiration

I've often gotten some of my best writing ideas while exercising, driving, or doing something else besides staring at the blank screen or page. I come from a family of exercisers, and we've debated through the decades about the value of exercising while plugged in to some technology (used to be a Walkman, these days it's an iPod).

While I understand the value of a beat that keeps you moving, I've usually been exercising outside, and I don't want to cut off one of my senses. I've lost count of the number of times that I've been able to avoid being hit by a car because I could hear it before I could see it (lots of speeders and stop sign runners in my neighborhood). More importantly, I don't want to signal to rapists and muggers that I'm a convenient target because I can't hear them coming.

If I exercised indoors, I might be able to listen to music and still get good writing ideas or solve problems that I'm having with a piece of writing. After all, I drive and listen to music, and I don't find that process affects my inspiration.

Lately, as I've jogged through my neighborhood, I notice many people walking and talking on their cell phones. Are they exercising? I don't know. Some of them are walking to the bus stop or walking the dog. But some of them seem to be working out while talking on the phone. I admire the breath control that must be required to do that, not to mention the motor skills. I can hardly make my cell phone work while standing still with sweat-free hands.

But the main reason that you won't see me working out with a cell phone--or with a friend--is that I value my alone time. My muse won't talk to me if I'm talking to others.

What Kind of Art Supply Are You?

At the creativity retreat from which I've just returned, we spent a lot of time thinking about ourselves as art materials, as well as having a lot of fun playing with art supplies. We also spent some time thinking about God as art material. If you want to read about this from a more theological aspect, feel free to visit my other blog; go here to read about God as art material, and here to read about humans as art supplies.

But that writing made me think about possible poems, so I thought I would post some ideas here as well. If you could describe yourself as an art material, which one would it be: clay? fabric? steel? potting soil? paint? copper? words?

What art material would you rather be? How does yearning for the different qualities of this art material mean that you don't appreciate the inherent worthiness of your own art material self?

A pastor/painter friend remarked about clay that clay doesn't spend its time wishing it was steel. Sure, it can't hold up a building, but it can do other things. Art materials have their own properties. They're very happy with who they are and see no need to change.

I felt like my head would split open as I realized how much I don't appreciate my own qualities, how much time I spend trying to improve myself and change myself for the better. I'm all for improvement and evolving, but some of my feelings stem from periods of self-loathing, which I wish I could let go of. I've made progress since adolescence, but occasionally, those old feelings well up, and I find myself surprised: "Hello, self-loathing, it's been awhile. What will you focus your laser-like intensity upon today?" What would happen if I accepted myself just as I am?

If you thought about God as an art material, what metaphor would you choose? Is this metaphor different from the ones you grew up with? How would your friends view God, when using the lens of an art material?

On Sunday, I taught a class on Women in the Bible, and I talked about feminine images of God (appropriate for Mother's Day, I thought). A lot of our old metaphors for God may not work anymore--God as parent is a troubling idea, since we never get to grow up to full adulthood, under some of the metaphors. But God as art supply takes us to a whole new poetic place.

I've long been fascinated with Julian of Norwich (whose feast day was a week ago) who created such unusual metaphors for God, unusual for a medieval woman, and in some ways, unusual even today. What metaphors could we poets create that would transform the way we see God?

What metaphors can we create that will transform the ways we see ourselves?

I Gave Away a Decade's Worth of "Poets and Writers"

For years, I've subscribed to Poets and Writers. Long ago, before the Internet became such a useful tool, P & W was a great way to find out which publications were looking for what kind of writing. I enjoyed the articles too. Again, this was before I read so many of these articles that they began to have a sameness about them.

I've decided that as my magazine subscriptions come to an end, I may not renew them. I may change my mind as I get closer to time, but it will be easy for me to let some magazines slip away. There are many, MANY spots on the Internet that fill the same information gap that I used to need those magazines to fill.

On Tuesday, I contemplated the issue of back issues. Since a P & W subscription isn't cheap, I've kept back issues. I envisioned a time that I would go back and savor them. Or maybe I thought that some day I'd have an academic job that involved only creative writing, and I'd have plenty of resources.

And as they piled up, it became harder to decide what to do, as they kept taking up valuable book shelf real estate. And after a decade of keeping them and never--NEVER--looking at back issues, it seemed more and more stupid to keep them.

So, on Tuesday, I decided to give them away. I thought about asking for money, but decided I just wanted to pass them along. When I was a younger writer, if I could have gotten such a treasure trove for free--how much that would have meant to me.

I left it in my husband's capable hands. He does quite well with E-Bay and Craig's List. And now, they're gone. Some part of me wonders if I've made a terrible mistake, but the larger part of me feels relief. I hang on to so much stuff, partly because of the money I spent, but mostly because I hope it will be useful some day. I try to let go of more of it, especially if I think it can be useful to somebody else, today, right now.