Rough Month (January)

My brother came across me hanging out in the kitchen at 2AM. I made me him jump and yell a little when he saw me standing by the fridge pouring apple juice, eating a bowl of sharp cheddar in my purple underwear.

“Sister! You’re a mess!”

I dislike the month of January, it’s always such a funky month for me. My writing has been crap, I’ve only  submitted to four journals and I can barely hammer out a new poem or clean up an old one. (This happened last January too). Or actually February, but like a period playing a trick on you my bad writing month came earlier.

Sometimes I just feel like such a shitty writer (I can’t even criticize myself in a more structured, fluent sentence) just “shitty” and I just don’t know how on earth I’m going to get into an MFA program. I mean I’m not the kind of person great things happen to. I don’t win all the prizes, awards, I don’t have schools knocking down my door looking for me.

I really hate my job right now. Or I really hate my boss, a wishy-washy, unorganized person who thinks their an educator when really they’re only into it if it’s making the money. My hours have been cut a bit and I feel like my boss is mad at me, for whatever reason I will never know or understand. But I don’t want to teach how they are. All those damn worksheets, that’s not teaching, that’s a cop out. My job has exhausted me to the point I cringe going into work, I’ve given up a bit of work. But I’m putting through, making what I can and then looking around for other jobs. I think I may just stick around here until summer. With my friends wedding and a few speech alumni functions happening I rather work somewhere a bit more flexible work schedule.

I was telling my mom everything that’s been going on at work. She’s been a bit upset to hear how down it’s making me. Especially because she knows I don’t get like this unless I’m really beaten down. How they demand such a high standard of their teachers, yet here I am working at night and I ask where my bosses kid is and they’ve gone on a trip. (Thanks for telling me ahead of time). Also, they’re a bit over religious for my taste. Now don’t get me wrong I don’t mind anyone’s religion but when it starts leak into one’s workplace I’m not such a fan. One time I was sitting in with my boss and another teacher discussing a student and my boss goes goes, “well he’s a freshman dating a senior and I think this senior girl is very promiscuous.”

I’m thinking, “well shit what would you label me if you knew all the weird sex shit I’ve done.” If dating someone, like what senior to a freshman, that’s like maybe three to four years apart? Damn if my boss thinks that’s bad…

So lately I’ve taken to crying in the cry without feeling it coming. Like today, I tried to run a one of my poems as I was driving to work and I just started crying. On the way home three nights ago I just started crying.

It’s a mixer of many things:

  1. Knowing my period is next week
  2. I’ve been fighting this cold (my ears keep popping)
  3. I’m really unhappy with work
  4. Writing has been terrible (the month of rejection)
  5. I’ve been stressing about money.
  6. I haven’t had sex in a year and two months. (this is a thing…getting pounded really calms me down).
  7. The ever looming MFA applications are a little knife in my side
  8. Still adjusting to not having my friends around. I have friends here, but I don’t tell them much about my bad days.
  9. That new super bowl commercial Budweiser has with the puppies is making me cry
  10. After a month of watching my Grandmother very slowly waste away, I think it’s all about over.
  11. My face has been breaking out like I’m sixteen years old again.
  12. And I’ve never felt more terrible about my body than I do this month.

Ok, I got that all out. 

I really hate crying sometimes and I hate when I get like this. I feel like I shouldn’t get like this anymore. I’m an adult and adults hold themselves together. I call these last few years the crying years and I blame speech and debate for that. From the ages of 8-18, I wasn’t a crier. I played sports and I took crying as a weakness, a way for the other team to learn your weakness. Also, I’ve always had a very high pain tolerance.

Expect anal, that’s just the most uncomfortable feeling ever and I’m good. Been there, tried that. not for me.

Now that I have all that negative bullshit out of my way I’m going to list the good things about this month, even though I still feel a bit shitty. But that’s ok to feel shitty, right? I think there’s a book that teaches this very lesson…umm its called, “Everybody poops.

Shit that was good about January:

  1. I wrote this fucking awesome poem about male rape for my friend speech. I guess people are really digging it and I just sent out to a journal. One of the few poems I sent around to my good friends to workshop and they didn’t have any edits. I was like Woah guys, you all always have grammar suggestions.
  2. The sky was beautiful yesterday
  3. My mom took me out to lunch. She knows what makes me feel better (Pizza and clam chowder).
  4. I’ve been a reading machine (more time for reading)
  5. I have icy hot again….mmmm icy hot is so good
  6. My room is almost done (I know took me forever) Just need to hang up a few things.
  7. Spent a lot of time with my best friend Tammy (went hiking).
  8. I’ve been posting a lot to this blog, which is nice. I normally don’t write this much for my blogs.
  9. Two of my students drew pictures for me (nice kids).
  10. I’m getting back into my submission groove, whether I like it or not!
  11. Also, I’m glad its 2015. I don’t think I could have lasted another month in 2014 because I kept saying 2004 so often I felt like I may have been slowly going back in time.
  12. The cheddar cheese this month was awesome

So it’s 3AM

I’m going back to the sharp cheddar

liz_lemon

Blankets

For those that read about my Monday (rainy day) I’m happy to report my Tuesday was much better.

I went to say goodbye to my grandmother. I think she’s on the edge. She was literally skin and bones and she was a bit out of it. But it was a nice visit. She didn’t yell or complain and she just sat and told stories. Must of the family gets mean, upset grandmother but when its just my brother and I in the room she’s very sweet and loves to tell us stories. I was  relieved to realize I think a lot of my pain and frustration was the need to say goodbye. I really hate death, I avoid it at all cost. Now let me reframe that. I’m not scared of death in the sense of, a fear of dying. I just hate funerals, I hate seeing someone in pain, especially the funerals. I’ve faked sick to miss a memorial or two. I Just hate sitting in a church crying over a picture. I never want that if I die. I would hate the idea that people gather around in a church to cry over me. I would much rather them go outside and enjoy the day and tell stories. But I’m really glad I went to see my grandmother and I got to tell her I love her. I needed that and I know I made her day a little bit better so that helps too.

Afterward, I had a nice lunch with my mom and little brother and then headed over to work. I was lucky and got off work an hour early and decided to stop by this cute little bookstore. I always see it on my drive home and my boss goes there often to buy books for work and for her own kids. This little old lady runs the store and she barely speaks English, but I swear she must be a wizard.

I walked into the bookstore and I guess on Tuesday and Thursday she wraps up used books throughout the shop and dares customers to buy them without knowing what they are. I do remember my bosses kids mentioning this to me. I walked in and I said hello to the little old lady and walked around.

One moment I was looking at used poetry books and the next thing I know I was scared but the old lady, who is a foot shorter than me. She was holding a large wrapped book and she kept repeating, “you could use this book.” I tried to ask why? And she said, “you could us this.” She even dropped te price for me.

I had no idea what the book was, but it was heavy and big. (So many dirty jokes went through my mind during the car drive home). I didn’t get to open till a bit later, but finally got around to unwrapping it and I was shocked!

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Blankets by Craig Thompson

I wasn’t entirely sure if this was the book I had heard of a few times by someone who loves it, but I figured out the next day and I kind of sat in awe for 15 minutes and then started to wonder if this was a real bookstore or if she was magic. It was really weird, shocking and wonderful in one giant feeling.

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I consumed this book pretty damn fast and each moment was really wonderful. I haven’t felt like that reading in a long time. I was so happy after reading Blankets. I know it’s a bit sad and thought provoking, but everything in the story felt so sincere and heartwarming and I don’t feel that enough in my daily routine. It was refreshing to read about young love and questioning faith. I wish I had better words to describe this book and I feel guilty not having the words, because I should being a hopeful writer but the book should take it as a compliment that I’m spending time talking about it. I only talk about books I love, so their book.

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So if you still need to know, Tuesday was a gift. I’m so grateful.

Rainy Days

January 19th, 2015

In high school, my coach would remind us whenever we were having an awful day that we needed the rainy days too. In a very cheesy image of how we’re growing up and we not only we need sunny days, but we need rainy days to grow too. As cheesy as this little phrase is I used it last week for one of my debate students who broke down crying at the end of class.

Today was a rainy day:

I woke up feeling under the weather. I’ve been battling not getting a cold, but feeling like I’m on the brink of a bad cold. This morning I felt really sick. (Don’t worry after large amounts of tea, oatmeal and Mucinex I felt better mid-day) Also, I went hiking twice over the weekend. Very long, hilly hikes so I woke up pretty sore.

Then my mom asked us if we wanted to go visit our Grandmother tomorrow. She’s slipping in and out of conciseness now. A chunk of my family members visited with her earlier in the day and she wasn’t really all there. So we’re going to see her tomorrow and I’m going to say goodbye.

I went into work early today. It’s a holiday so I had private tutoring sessions since there wasn’t regular classes today. But my boss was on a (trying to fix holes at work) mood and she’s a bit intense. She also loves to walk in the middle of sessions, to have conversations. Next thing I know as my two students were taking their vocabulary test I started to silently cry. I stopped myself soon enough before it got out of hand.

Finally after work I jumped into my car and just broke down crying. Then I started singing along with the radio because singing always made me feel better in high school.

*Note: When I’m upset about one thing it tends to snowball into a lot of things. Or all the things I was bottling up finally pour out. (I’m really trying to work on this) But I still do this all the time. So one minute I’m upset about my grandmother, next I’m crying about how shitty of a teacher I am, how I can’t do any of this, because I start thinking about how exhausting my learning disability is everyday, then I think I can’t get into an MFA program because I’m so shitty at spelling and grammar and words in general and then I think  I can’t write, because I haven’t written a good poem in weeks, that I haven’t had time to submit anything new in two weeks, how I’ve been rejected a boat load of times the past week, and then I start thinking about how lonely I am, how badly I wish I could just call somebody. How badly I miss love.

I just start repeating to myself “it’s just a rainy day. I’m just having a bad day. It’s just a bad day, in a few hours, everything will be better.”

Then I pull thru a Mcdonalds drive thru and order a Big Mac, fries and a Coke.

And then I felt better.

Crying_icecream_eating

Today was a rainy day. So I’m hoping for a few nice sunny days soon. Maybe put aside some time for my poems and my submissions.

Anxiety

I scratch my legs too much when I get stressed out. I’ll be sitting in the bathtub thinking about all the things stressing me out and then before I know my calves have these huge scratch like rashes up and down them. I’m pale so the contrasting red seems a bit more intense then it probably is.

Why I’m stressed

A whole boatload of reasons why I’m stressed, because my anxiety comes and goes, but yesterday and today’s anxiety is terrible.

For one thing my two good friends from out the Midwest are in town but they are a bit wishy-washy about plans. They want to hang out, but they sleep in until 1pm and well are not planners. I’m a planner and I hate being late. Now I’ve gotten better, I’ve actually been late to a few things and I have left certain plans up in the air. It’s a process, but I hate when I’m left guessing if I should put pants on.

Also, work makes me stressed. My job is nice and I enjoy it and they enjoy me. Yet I still live this lingering sensation that they’re going to fire me. I think this has to do this my continuing failing relationships with guys and how my last job can kind fizz out.

My Last Job: Is by my favorite job. It was my home and my boss was family. He’s still family, but he’s not really the boss anymore, a co-worker of mine took over and well we don’t meet eye-to-eye on anything. I’m a very social-emotion person and my co-worker has much more of a poker face, even though I’ve seen them at their worse a few times. So that job just kind of ended with me not feeling happy there and also dislike other co-workers.

So here I sit, waiting for my new job to call me back because they wanted to talk with me about my schedule for January.