...and all those silly challenges.


first poetry month
haiku: one poem a day,
you say? i say, two! 

I'm not so much interested in the Hoagland reference here, just the overall sentiment.

Tony Hoagland is the sort of poet you dream of finding but almost never do. His work is relaxed, deceptively easy on the eye and ear, and it has jokes and unexpected little blurts of melancholic resonance. Plus, I pretty much understood all of it, and yet it's clever--as you almost certainly know, contemporary poetry is a kind of Reykjavik, a place where accessibility and intelligence have been fighting a Cold War by proxy for the last half-century. If something doesn't give you even a shot at comprehension in the first couple of readings, then my motto is "Fuck it," but I never swore once. They can use that as a blurb, if they want. They should. Who wouldn't buy a poetry book that said "I never swore once" on the cover? Everyone would know what it meant.

-Nick Hornby, The Polysyllabic Spree

http://100dayspoems.blogspot.com/

A great project by Arielle Greenberg and Rachel Zucker.

Dear Malia and Sasha,

I know that you've both had a lot of fun these last two years on the campaign trail, going to picnics and parades and state fairs, eating all sorts of junk food your mother and I probably shouldn't have let you have. But I also know that it hasn't always been easy for you and Mom, and that as excited as you both are about that new puppy, it doesn't make up for all the time we've been apart. I know how much I've missed these past two years, and today I want to tell you a little more about why I decided to take our family on this journey.

When I was a young man, I thought life was all about me-about how I'd make my way in the world, become successful, and get the things I want. But then the two of you came into my world with all your curiosity and mischief and those smiles that never fail to fill my heart and light up my day. And suddenly, all my big plans for myself didn't seem so important anymore. I soon found that the greatest joy in my life was the joy I saw in yours. And I realized that my own life wouldn't count for much unless I was able to ensure that you had every opportunity for happiness and fulfillment in yours. In the end, girls, that's why I ran for President: because of what I want for you and for every child in this nation.

I want all our children to go to schools worthy of their potential-schools that challenge them, inspire them, and instill in them a sense of wonder about the world around them. I want them to have the chance to go to college-even if their parents aren't rich. And I want them to get good jobs: jobs that pay well and give them benefits like health care, jobs that let them spend time with their own kids and retire with dignity.

I want us to push the boundaries of discovery so that you'll live to see new technologies and inventions that improve our lives and make our planet cleaner and safer. And I want us to push our own human boundaries to reach beyond the divides of race and region, gender and religion that keep us from seeing the best in each other.

Sometimes we have to send our young men and women into war and other dangerous situations to protect our country-but when we do, I want to make sure that it is only for a very good reason, that we try our best to settle our differences with others peacefully, and that we do everything possible to keep our servicemen and women safe. And I want every child to understand that the blessings these brave Americans fight for are not free-that with the great privilege of being a citizen of this nation comes great responsibility.

Sasha (l) and Malia Obama at play in New Hampshire in 2007.

Bumper cars at the Iowa State Fair in August 2007.

That was the lesson your grandmother tried to teach me when I was your age, reading me the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence and telling me about the men and women who marched for equality because they believed those words put to paper two centuries ago should mean something.

She helped me understand that America is great not because it is perfect but because it can always be made better-and that the unfinished work of perfecting our union falls to each of us. It's a charge we pass on to our children, coming closer with each new generation to what we know America should be.

I hope both of you will take up that work, righting the wrongs that you see and working to give others the chances you've had. Not just because you have an obligation to give something back to this country that has given our family so much-although you do have that obligation. But because you have an obligation to yourself. Because it is only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you will realize your true potential.

These are the things I want for you-to grow up in a world with no limits on your dreams and no achievements beyond your reach, and to grow into compassionate, committed women who will help build that world. And I want every child to have the same chances to learn and dream and grow and thrive that you girls have. That's why I've taken our family on this great adventure.

I am so proud of both of you. I love you more than you can ever know. And I am grateful every day for your patience, poise, grace, and humor as we prepare to start our new life together in the White House.

No catching up. Just is.

This makes me happy. This drives me crazy.

3 steps forward, 2 steps back. It is pretty evident now that the same African-American turnout that voted overwhelmingly for Obama in California also voted overwhelmingly in favor of Prop 8.

Yes we did.

This semester feels different than most. I'm a little more tired. A little less motivated. I am having to work a little harder to stay focused.

I'm noticing this pattern in others, too. Students. Teachers. People walking down the street. Everyone seems to be in a funk. My cognitive abilities have been a bit off, too. Of course, this could be attributed to exhaustion. Either way, I spent 5 minutes frantically looking for my cell phone the other day. I was on my cell phone.

Yesterday, waiting for the elevator, another FYW teacher and I exchanged the look. You know the one. The how-are-you-could-be-better-is-it-the-15th-week-yet look. She said to me, "I think the election and the economy are really getting to everyone". And as simple as that is, I hadn't even considered it. I mean, I know that I've been obsessing unhealthily over the election. However, I think that everyone is absorbing all of this negativity and anxiety. I think we probably all have a case of electionitis. Even if we don't know it.

For me, anyway, I know there is only one thing that will make it all better: Obama.

So far, so good. The semester seems like it will be great and so do my students. I have a student from Highland Park in Pittsburgh. I barely got "Italian ice?" out of my mouth before she gasped. What a small world.

Every day I'm feeling more and more like full-time faculty. This is a subject position that has been harder to adjust to than expected. Suddenly, I feel all nervous and squirmy around folks I've worked with for years. But I've gotten my business cards and my insurance and I'm starting to realize that this is pretty fun. And, as much as I thought this change of title wouldn't affect my teaching, it really has. I feel more authoritative in the classroom. Though, granted, this is mostly all in my head. Either way, I feel myself trying things that I wouldn't have tried before and being more confident in all of the things I did.

In all of this good-feelingness, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't completely and totally exhausted. I'm balancing a full-time job and a half. And that's just at Columbia. Of course, I'm also running my own business on the side. Am I nuts? I keep telling myself that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. But truthfully, I've gotten so used to be busy that, when I had a day off last week, I didn't even know what to do with it.

Perhaps the saddest thing in all of this is that I've only been to the farmer's market twice all season. Just one bite of a September apple this past weekend and I was almost back to my old self. Sona promises to take me apple picking twice this year: once in the next couple weeks so that we don't miss the McIntoshes and once at the end for Suncrisp, Golden, etc. I also got a big bunch of tuberoses. I have them in the living room window and the smell is overtaking the house. I, of course, love every bit of it. I still can't stop watching all of the election coverage. But boy, those things make breathing a lot easier.

Have you read this?

Here is a peak of all the deliciousness (taken with my phone):

It is the first day of classes for me and I should be talking about how great my students are (which they are) but I can't think of anything beyond November 4, 2008. I'm obsessed.

I'm so obsessed with the election that I can't breathe. Seriously, I'm panicking. Every free second is spent looking at one political blog or another. Or visiting gallup.com to check out the day-by-day poll fluctuation. Or watching hours of Tivo-ed convention coverage (MSNBC for the actual convention and CNN for the commentary). Or arguing with my family until too late into the evening.

I don't know why this election has hit me harder than any other. Maybe because, although I was certainly hoping for a Democratic outcome in 2000 and 2004, this is the first election where I feel really well-versed on the actual issues. Maybe because I'm one year away from my 26-year long dream of being married by 27 and I can't legally marry. Maybe because such a large part of me identifies (as best possible, though never enough) with the African-American struggle as a gay, Jewish gal that was raised below the Mason Dixon.

I mean, after all, I get that. And when I watched Michelle and Barack speak at the DNC I cried a full-belly kind of cry. I saw in them possibilities that I have for way-too-long been way-too-cynical to believe in. And yes, this over-emotional, visceral reaction to the Obama ticket is exactly what the GOP loves to mock. When Palin was officially announced, Rich was quick to call me and exclaim, "I feel all warm and tingly inside"! And yes, we could do better and want more and these are just baby steps. But for most of my life I've held onto the belief that if you excavate deeply enough, you'll find the real America. You know, the one that exists and sits quietly while being disenfranchised and under-represented by the unreal America. I've just recently come to the conclusion that, if Obama doesn't win and if, after 8 years of the current administration America chooses 4 more years of the same, maybe the real America doesn't exist. Maybe this is it.

It's the worse fear I've always had with any relationship in my life. That, in the end, you realize you never really knew the person at all. They weren't who you'd thought they were. They weren't anything special. And then, what is left? A country that lied to you for your whole entire life.

but the last week was so worth it:

We're reading Stranger Than Fiction in Bridge and I always play this Chuck Palahniuk video for the class. A great storyteller talking about great storytelling. What's not to love?

Moreso than the lollipops, there seems to be one very clear analogy here: men = flies. Don't tell me you weren't thinking it, too.

I told the poetry group that we need to have a submission party again... SOON! I've been so busy this summer, surely to get busier with the new job, and all po-related things have been on the back-burner. I need to really work at MAKING time for poetry.

Though, I just got a poem accepted by Court Green. This makes me feel like I'm keeping up with things better than I am. A couple of rejections have rolled in, too: The Southern Review and AGNI. You win some, you lose lots.

Where is the summer going so quickly? And  this is TOTALLY worth a drive to Naperville.