Strides

In the interest of rejecting the reality that is masquerading as my life, I submitted some of my poems for publication consideration to two online poetry journals tonight. I have also prepared two submission letters for two print journals. I'll have them out by the end of the week.

I've been planning a post topic, on some level, for months now...

This is not that post.

Yesterday my good friend Devika Keral made the train trek from Washington, DC to Baltimore to lunch with me and Sarah. She had planned to come to the thesis reading, but even after I made the decision to skip it, she decided to still make the trip. I am so glad she did. It is always soul-enriching to see Devika and yesterday was no exception.

She got to see my apartment for the first time. We hung out talking for about an hour, nursing glasses of my special egg nogg cocktail, before the Sarah One came to spirit us away to sushi in the suburbs. I have never had the pleasure of hanging out with them both together for any extended period of time, so that was also a real treat.

I didn't feel conflicted or regretful at all about not being at the reading. I wondered if I would, but it was just a superior way to spend the afternoon. I believe in doing what is organic, what brings you pleasure, with the people you love. And I love both of these women and I know they love me. It couldn't have been better.

After parting ways with Devika at Penn station, Sarah and I pushed on to her apartment for our standing Saturday night sleepover. We hung out for a few hours, tried to watch Woody Allen's "Scoop," but couldn't get into it, so shut it off. At about 9:30 we decided to go to Kinko's so I could get the tapebound/acid-free copies of my thesis that the University requires (I'll deliver them sometime this coming week). That process was delightfully simple (once we got to the store in White Marsh--the Timonium outfit's tape binding machine was broke and they had never heard of acid-free paper, which did nothing to inspire confidence in me...).

What a great weekend.

What I've Learned This Week About Outrage, Friends Who Could Not Possibly Rock Any Harder, Putting the Kabbash on Some Dubious Crap, and What It Means To Trust Someone...

At the start of 2006 I set a general goal for myself. Not a resolution, but more a guiding principle. Discretion. I have been very successful with employing this principle, on the whole, but of course, I have fallen short of the bar a few times, too. This week I have been sorely tested in this area. I haven't always known when to draw the line between "sharing information about my own life" and being a pot-stirrer. You know the type that keeps stuff going just because she gets off on it? I don't want to be that person... I've seen that "things" can get bigger and more blown out of proportion the more we talk about them, so I've started to check myself even when it's my own business I'm putting in the street.

It's not my intention to be vague here, but in the interest of putting the kabbash on the general ick that has resulted from some less than pleasant developments, I won't go into details. I can say this: I am already revisiting the object lesson of my post from about a week ago. I said there was power in understanding when something is not about you, in letting a person's negative impression of you stand. And letting it stand, in this case, for this reason, has nothing to do with a defeatist paradigm. It's about picking your battles. Sometimes you have to let another person, another institution, another entity try and convict you of some bogus, ambiguous social crimes in order to be at peace with yourself. You might just have to hang out there by yourself...go hard, etc.

But I'll say this, too. When you have an inner circle of people who know the truth, who can be all up in arms on your behalf, well that rocks. I can't say it any more simply. Look, I'm a strong woman. But sometimes it's nice to let someone else fight for you. Having a knight in shining armor, so to speak, doesn't make me feel any less formidable in my own right. It's made me feel even more powerful in this quiet, lovely way...

I know that trust has many illustrations and expressions. The one I've seen this week? Someone that I hold in high esteem not use his influence in my life to get me to do something I didn't want to do. I just felt so safe in that realization of his character. Like I didn't have to fight that battle in addition to the other ones because he got it.

As I said, this in addition to all the amazing friends God has given me who've kept me grounded and kept it real during the drama. Another terrific example. Last night my good friend E called me up and left me the best message. She'd told her dad about the recent goings on in Thesisland, and the man--who has never met me, incidentally--wanted to know if "he needed to go down there and storm the bastille."

Every woman needs a father, even if it's not her own, who would at least offer to storm an evil empire on her behalf.

Thesis Acceptance, Take Two

The University hustled to correct its mistake. As it turns out, almost everyone on the review committee had gotten the correct version, but the Poetry Reviewer, the one who actually had the final say over my thesis, did not. In any case, they all reconvened post haste after I alerted the Thesis Coordinator to the error, and re-reviewed my document. I got the new decision today via priority mail. This time my thesis decision was "accepted in this form," meaning I have no revisions of substance to make.

Now that I've calmed down I can actually see the compliment in the fact that my first draft was "accepted with minor revisions." Given that the only work that had been done to that draft was that it had been printed out, that's slightly remarkable. It was that rough by comparison. I feel so validated now, because as important to me as getting my thesis accepted, I wanted it accepted "as is." This is not, for my program, a lofty goal that few attain. I knew I could do it. It's great to know that my final draft earned the specific level of acceptance I set as my goal at the beginning of the term.

I am so grateful to my friends for not only supporting me throughout the semester, but for being there through the temporary crisis Monday night's upset created. All of you were appropriately outraged on my behalf while remaining positive and giving me some much-needed perspective. If it weren't for you wonderful people, I don't know that I would have gotten to sleep that night.

My coworkers, again, proved just how thoughtful they are. On Tuesday I received via delivery, at the office, a lovely basket of Afrian Violets. The card read "Kate, You will always be our Poet Laureate." First of all, I have never gotten flowers delivered to me, for any reason, so when the office assistant walked toward my desk with this beautiful arrangement, I was stupefied. Surely, she was not coming to my desk with this inspiring package...

Now I have the sense of joy and happiness I had hoped to feel on Monday night. It's all over and amends have been made; my work has been validated. I remember deciding to apply to this program 3 years ago. What a tremendous experience this was. It was everything I wanted, ultimately.

You know, I was so upset a couple of nights ago that I decided not to participate in the Thesis Reading on Saturday. In truth, I had never wanted to do it--not because of nerves, but for some inexplicable reason, I just haven't been "feeling it." But after the snafu, I decided there was no way I could even pretend to embrace the ritual in the proper spirit required for such an event. I told my advisor as much. And he replied that I was the only reason he would have attended--as a show of support, but more importantly to indulge in my work, my voice. This relationship has been the pivotal one of my master's degree candidacy. And I would be sad that this association is reaching a formal conclusion. I would be if I didn't already know that new contexts for continued collaboration await.

On to the next chapter of this book...

well, my thesis was accepted... with minor revisions. but the kicker is that they accepted the first draft. somehow the reviewer for poetry (not the person to whom I turned in my thesis and therein may be the problem) didn't get my final draft with new title, sans essay, and with extensive revisions. to say that i have problems with the fact that i was the last person in my class to find out my standing, and that i found it out in class (my thesis was handed back to me with comments) when everyone else got their results by mail, would be putting it mildly. i should not have had to process this information in a public setting--how much more horrifying to realize that i was looking at the old title page, the old table of contents, the essay, long since kabbashed, for goodness' sake... I tried for about three minutes to make it through the last class (this class, in case i haven't emphasized this enough, is something i had to attend in addition to my meetings with my advisor where the real work of my thesis was done), but i couldn't do it. i knew if i stayed i was seriously going to lose it, and just like with a child throwing a temper tantrum or who is unwell, there is only one thing to do--remove myself from the situation. i needed to get home and get on the phone and launch an e-mail campaign.

so i've submitted, via e-mail, the correct version to the coordinator. and i cc'd the poetry reviewer and my advisor. in short, i think i'm getting a master's degree. i still don't know, because now the correct draft of my thesis has to be reviewed. i am significantly less riled than i was last night, but i'm still at the point where i can't see how this has done anything but ruin the end of my master's career.

Some things happen and you know, intuitively, that they foreshadow something else (or you hope they do--in any case, they seem large with suggestion). For whatever reason, you are able to tap into the dramatic arc of your life and know This is important. Remember it for later. I could not stop thinking about a particular someone this afternoon. He occupied my thoughts for the entire 5-stop light rail ride I took from Mt. Washington to the Cultural Center, where I disembarked to go home. Right at the corner of Charles & Preston, I saw him. He was within calling out range, so I did. My voice has never had much power, even when I yell or scream, but he heard me and stopped.

The exchange wasn't long and the only remarkable thing about it, other than the unexpectedness of seeing him at all, is that in the course of about 30 seconds, he touched me twice. We were both on our way to our respective homes--and I was already somewhat late to meet my mother and her friend for dinner (today is my mom's birthday), so there was no belabouring of the moment.

It was kind of nothing, but you wouldn't know that by the stupid grin I sported all the way to my apartment. It was like I conjured him up and placed him squarely on the page of my day, right near the end of a chapter.

My sister rocks, literally...

The Perfect Winter Cocktail
(measurements not exact, but you really can't screw this up)

Half a wine glass of egg nogg
one fourth wine glass of 2% (or skim, even better) milk
a sprinkle of nutmeg
a shot of vanilla (optional)
a dash of Irish Whiskey
Stir.

I sipped this nifty little concoction while the red beans and rice simmered, the red cabbage (which is actually purple)cooked in balsamic vinegar and olive oil, and the yellow squash roasted in the oven.

There is power in simply realizing when something has nothing to do with you. There is grace in allowing the absence of your contention to be your tactical offensive maneuver, in letting your silence suffice.

It is a tiresome phrase by now, but the only thing anyone can control is his or her response to what happens. I believe in steering the ship—in as much as it can be directed—but something, someone will always blindside me. There is always a point at which I will be out of my depth. Sometimes this point is realizing that someone quite simply doesn’t like me (or worse, doesn’t respect me).

There is power in my choosing to let that be what it is. Less easy, perhaps, is the realization that someone pities me, or has some other misconception that is fueling their dislike (far better to be disliked for noble reasons), but I have disciplined myself to some degree in this area, too. It is not up to me to correct anyone’s perception or change anyone’s mind. I am not that important. Even God refrains from such manipulation, and if ever someone was egregiously misunderstood, it is God.

In the past, I have spent years trying to change the scope of a person’s heart. Ultimately, it was the surest course toward total division—my final division from the person whose mind I wanted to change—more importantly, more devastatingly, it divided me from myself.

Recently, I was part of a group discussion about marriage proposals (how they happened) and engagement rings (how they were chosen). A few people in the group mentioned selecting their rings online by way of a popular Web site. I brightened, having heard of the site. One of the women asked me if I’d ever purchased a ring from the site. I had not, I told her, but had “designed” a ring via the interactive feature.

At that moment another girl piped up and said with something akin to mild wonder “You always say the most shameful things—then I realize ‘hey, I’ve done the same thing!’”

My response to this comment was one of legitimate curiosity. I told her that I hadn’t even considered that this was something shameful—that I’d simply wanted to know what all the terms (emerald cut, princess cut, square cut, baguette) translated to, visually.

She self-corrected. “I meant, embarrassing…”

I know this woman meant no harm. It was a moment of unchecked candor. It may sound harsh, but I was there. I saw her face and heard her tone. It was not malicious. But between this disclosure about once designing an engagement ring (sans fiancé) and other things she’s gleaned from my life by other throwaway comments I must have made, she’s made an assessment. And I’m not interested in changing it. I am content to let her find me pathetic, not because I agree with her, but because the dye is cast. I have been categorized and that is that. I know this girl doesn’t give me much conscious thought—for good or bad—her reaction to my anecdote probably took her as much by surprise as it did me.

It is at a time like that, at this point in my life, when I understand the absolute value of knowing who I am, being convinced of that. I don’t have to go on an internal tear about this. I don’t have to do any campaigning (there would be no end to this if I began it).

But…

this situation reinforced another lesson. Thoughtless sharing, or too much anyway, is often the instrument of regret. There’s something to be said for being inscrutable.

Stranger Than Fiction

Sarah and I finished out the leisurely weekend with a movie matinee. I finally saw "Stranger Than Fiction" and it was definitely worth the price of admission. I enjoy Will Ferrell, in general, and found his dramatic efforts to be as worthy as his comedic ones. His performance was credible and enjoyable. I was very intrigued by the points at which truth and fiction converge and it raised all sorts of provoking questions. And of course it was hard not to imagine my own life as the result of some external, governing authorial intelligence. If my life were a narrative, I think it would almost certainly have to be 3rd person omniscient. Who would that narrator be? Would this voice be male or female? I'll have to think about that one some more.

I finished watching the latest Netflix offering from my queue a few moments ago. "Friends With Money." Hmm. Well acted, but these people's problems are not my particular problems,their concerns decidedly not my concerns, so I remained distanced from the characters and the stories.

But back to "Stranger" for just a moment. It made me think about the places where my life needs a push, where I need to move forward in some direction(any good movie should make you think about your life, I think). There is this beautiful point in the plot when the hero understands and is able to articulate in no uncertain terms what he wants. It was inspiring. I think we all know what we want, we've just talked ourselves out of the possibility of it. I know I do that. All the time.

I must be stressed (still). Have been having a slew of strange, absurdist dreams (John Mayer working at my office, but wearing his suit and tie backward as a demonstration of his rejection of the 9-to-5 business model) that indicate, clearly, that I feel uncomfortable with my abilities in each of the major areas of my life. The other night I dreamed that my advisor had invited his entire tuesday night class to a thesis meeting with me and fully expected them to all offer up revision suggestions, and when I balked at this, I came off looking like a complete and total ass. Finally, I attempted (in my dream life) to join a truly rinky-dink gym only to find out that it was $300 a month, so there was no way I could afford it.

Am trying to maintain perspective and regain some semblance of a feeling of control.

Must detox from the richness of Thanksgiving food. This is no time for me to fall apart (completely).

Leftovers

On Wednesday night I met up with Catchka for dinner. I decided we should go to this neighborhood pub that has survived for at least two years, though it never seems very busy. I figured it would be cheap and very no frills. Now I would say that it is subpar, and though my expectations that night were decidedly low, they still missed the mark. More on that in another post (blog wars!)

C dropped me off at Sarah's house after our lacklustre meal so that Sarah and I could do as much meal prep as possible for Thanksgiving dinner. Of course, by the time I showed up Sarah already had gotten quite a head start on the homemade sausage stuffing (with dried cranberries and pine nuts), the aroma of which filled her place with all kinds of goodness and love-- the macaroni and cheese casserole, and the gingerbread for the gingerbread pumpkin trifle (a la Paula Deen).

Thursday morning we woke up, not that early, did a few more things at S's place, then packed up the car and headed to my apartment where the stage was set for some fine holiday fun. I had asked my family to show up at noon. It was more like 2 when they got there, but that was actually better.

A lovely artichoke dip and red wine (and Sarah's homemade rum punch) were set out as appetizers by the time my sisters (and babygirl!) arrived. My mom and her friend got to my place about 20 minutes after the girls showed up. My Christmas 2006 playlist warmed up the dining room, while we all chatted and caught up.

Crystal's boyfriend wasn't set to arrive until about 4:30, but the food was all ready to be served by about 3:30, so we all ate (Crystal opted to wait for him, but sat at the table with us and occasionally I force fed her bites of my food). Once Brandon arrived, we were starting to do a little clean up, but all the food was still out and relatively warm... nukeable.

My mom, her friend, and Caryl got the tree assembled in no time flat while I washed and dried dishes. This, apparently, was exhausting, because they didn't even bother to put the lights on (Caryl and I did that later, then Crystal joined us to help decorate).

We took lots of photos, then played a rousing round of Outburst (then moved on to a less rousing, but still fun turn at Taboo). My mom really wanted to watch a movie, so we stuck in a DVD ("Over The Hedge"--originally we thought Brandon's young son would be joining us) and ate some of the three dessert options (carrot pie, dutch apple pie, and the gingerbread pumpkin trifle) and drank coffee.

Everyone left at about 9 or so, and since I have some light traveling plans with Sarah, I came back to her place last night so we'd already be together today when it was time to hit the road.

Well, I'm off to enjoy the rest of the weekend... and the leftovers.

I remember being a teenager and hating that the holidays meant being away from my friends. Of course, I looked forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas in some ways, but more often than not I felt relief when it was time to go back to school and regain the semblance of normalcy that a school schedule imposed on my angst-filled life. It was an unburdening to go back to the manageable drama of cafeteria politics, the navagable terrain of 6th period ennui. This continued through my college years, only it was worse because the breaks were longer, the family stress more intense.

As I've probably mentioned, I am hosting my mother and sisters (and a couple of friends of theirs) this year. Sarah is coming,too, but it hardly seems accurate to say that I'm hosting her when she's doing more than half of the work... anyway, the day that I couldn't wait for when I was 16 is finally here. And it's odd. This is what it's like to have the holidays on my terms, when I can technically do anything I want, be with anyone I want, and my only non-negotiable is that I am with my family. The people that I still wanted to flee prolonged periods of time with at this time of year not even 5 years ago.

I'm in a weird place right now. I feel very blah. And can't seem to get started, energy-wise. I mean, I'm working, I'm doing what I need to do, still plugging away on the Independent Study, awaiting the thesis decision...I cleaned my apartment. I mean I'm doing stuff, but I just can't seem to engage some things the way I want to.

So my family is coming and I think it's going to be good. I think it will go fine, I guess. But something is still amiss. I feel out of control of something small, but integral to my own peace of mind. I don't know what that is.

And now, we interrupt your regularly scheduled thesis and Independent Study angst for a slew of quiz results...

You Are 75% Left Brained, 25% Right Brained

The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning. Left brained people are good at communication and persuading others. If you're left brained, you are likely good at math and logic. Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet. The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility. Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way. If you're right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art. Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy, and sports.

Are You Right or Left Brained?

You Are: 40% Dog, 60% Cat

You and cats have a lot in common. You're both smart and in charge - with a good amount of attitude. However, you do have a very playful side that occasionally comes out!

Are You More Cat or Dog?

You Are Expressionism

Moody, emotional, and even a bit angsty... you certainly know how to express your emotions. At times, you tend to lack perspective on your life, probably as a result of looking inward too much. This introspection does give you a flair for the dramatic. And it's even maybe made you cultivate some artistic talents! You have a true artist's temperament... which is a blessing and a curse.

What Art Movement Are You?

You Are 5: The Investigator

You're independent - and a logical analytical thinker. You love learning and ideas... and know things no one else does. Bored by small talk, you refuse to participate in boring conversations. You are open minded. A visionary. You understand the world and may change it.

What Number Are You?

You Are 72% Happy

You are a very happy person. Generally, you feel content and that all is right with the world. Occasionally, you have a down day - but you have the ability to pick yourself right back up.

How Happy Are You?

You Are a Auditory Learner

You tend to remember what you hear, and you have a knack for speaking well. You excel at debating, foreign languages, and music. You would be an excellent diplomat - or rock star!

What's Your Learning Style?

You Are 79% Thankful

You are a very thankful person - for both the big and little things in life. Your optimism is powerful. Getting through hard times is fairly easy for you.

How Thankful Are You?