I'm currently reading Sonja Livingston's book Ghostbread, a lyrical memoir about her childhood and growing up in extreme poverty (which is fantastic so far). The book has made me think about home and place, especially since I now am a California resident. My move this week was surreal: there were moments when I thought about the future, this moment right now, sitting on Sal's couch in our apartment. Here I am, drinking my coffee, going through my email. It feels like home is nowhere or somewhere between places, hidden in a crevice between Pennsylvania and California.
I know that familiar places impact me, but mostly because of the memories I have with specific people in those places. People are my homes. My mom got a little weepy on the phone this morning. I got really sad thinking about my grandmother and her age. The unthinkable goodbyes. I have spent time imagining my friends, what they are doing in Pittsburgh, whether they are shopping at a farmer's market or going for a walk in Frick Park. Museums, readings, parties.
But now I just had a thought: I can, if I want, get on a bus and go to the SFMOMA or the Beat Museum. I can ride a trolley or go to the dog park two blocks from my apartment and make some friends, canine or otherwise. I might not have as many people to do these things with, but I will. Technology helps ease the transition. I just talked to Lindsey via video chat. I need to get my parents a web camera and teach them how to use gchat. I'll make friends eventually. Patience.
I have a lot of options. Now begins the narrowing down process. First though, I think I'll have some coffee and look at the view from my kitchen.
Three more days. Most of my belongings are in boxes or waiting to be stuffed into a duffle bag. It's strangely calming to have everything you own packed away. For me, stuff makes clutter and that makes me crazy. I think I should have been a monk; minimalism is my friend.
I've spent the past week packing and spending time with friends and family. The question I get asked the most is, "Are you excited?" It's a strange question. Yes, I am excited. Somewhere inside me is excitement. But right now I'm just focused on the task at hand. Get my things moved, get my car situated, pack my coffee pot last minute, patch holes, sweat.
Sometimes I feel like I'm too sentimental. I know I am. I spend far too much time observing my life, as opposed to existing in it. Perhaps it's a writer-thing. Sometimes I think about the plane crashing on my way to California. How exquisitely tragic. Or I think about all the work I have to do when I arrive, unpacking, job finding, friend making. I know that making friends might not seem like work to some, but it is for me. I'm glad I've already got some people I know out there.
Weave's latest issue is finished. You should buy it.
I'm going to get back to packing and such. I will leave you with Ray. He's like jelly, baby.
Every few years, without planning or warning, the perfect night in Pittsburgh is born.
A few years ago, I had a perfect afternoon that extended into a perfect night. It included long walks, beer, hotdogs, cemeteries, poetry and conversation. Maybe even a little bit of streaking, but that's just a rumor.
This past Wednesday night was perfect. I called my friends Lindsey and Andrew to go get ice cream at Dave & Andy's in Oakland. They had just ordered a pizza and invited me over to share. We read the latest issue of work from Mudthroat Records, including a CD of original music, which we listened to on the way to get ice cream.
Dave & Andy's was delicious, as always. The weather was pleasant, so we walked around until we got to Schenley Plaza and found what I can only describe as a shallow sandbox. It was part of a small garden sitting area near Fifth Avenue; people had written messages and drawn pictures in the sand. Someone suggested we make some crop circles, so the three of us started shuffling around and around and then people walking past said things like, "Oh wow, check that out!" and "That looks so cool!" Some drunk college students came over to watch us shuffle. We stopped to admire our work and then started up again, adding to what we already created. We didn't talk really, just moved around one another in circles.
As it goes with perfect nights, the sandbox was right next the Cathedral of Learning. We decided to go inside to see if we could catch a glimpse of our work from above. We took the elevator up to the 36 floor and stared down at our creation. We knew the wind would take it from us eventually, but for the moment, it was beautiful.
On our way back to the car we stop at The Original for a few beers and some conversation over poems and ideas for collaborating. As we drove back, we listened to more music and said goodnight.
Today marks eleven days until I move to California. I'm happy I can take this night in Pittsburgh with me. I think I'll carry it around with me in my pocket for safekeeping.
I saw your Thunderbird in Pittsburgh three times in two weeks.
It's not really your car, but rather, just the same make, model, year and twice it was the same color, which is saying something, since your car's particular color is a limited edition.
I smile whenever I see it. It reminds me of August 2009, just a month after you moved to California and I came to visit you for two weeks. We drove north to Sonoma along highway 101 with the top down. I felt very California, learned to wear a scarf over my hair like women in old movies.
We stopped in a little beach town on the way back home. We sat on the beach and I cried because the ocean always makes me afraid of death. Or reminds me that I always fear death. Sometimes I fear a painful death. But mostly I fear a young death; there are so many things I still want to experience.
The beach was cool that day, but people were still swimming. We laid there on the beach and you told me again how my experience of the worlds is much different than yours. How I could sit on the beach and feel so small next to the ocean's constant white noise and before long that noise becomes a part of my own noise and your noise and I realize it's all the same. The salt-tears rush out like little lost pieces of the ocean returning home.
"All your feelings are just right there. You already are a poet, Laura. Now you just need to practice."
After the beach we walked through the town past garages converted into surfboard repair shops and tiny store fronts selling hemp shoes or organic vegan pizza. The tan people walked the sidewalk, hands in pockets, one flip-flop clad foot dangling for a half-second before meeting the sand covered cement. I was always rushing somewhere. I imagined they didn't own watches.
This particular town also had a small liberal arts college. I began to fantasize.
"I would love to live in a town like this," I said to you, but I only half believed myself. Could I be this relaxed? Maybe you come here to relax. The ocean noise soothes the need to rush.
"You could. Why can't you?" you said to me.
I shrugged. "I don't know." This beach town seemed so far from me, from Appalachia, from February streets piled high with gray sleet and snow. People smiled here. A lot. Could they be trusted? Could I trust myself to relax here?
We got back in the Thunderbird, top down. I tied a scarf over my head. Maybe we could take little vacations to a place like this.
When I see your car, I see California. I smell the ocean. I see the redwoods and the wainscoting on the walls of your apartment. Soon to be our apartment. I taste the wines of Sonoma. I hear the white noise of California. I feel your hand in mine, both of us walking down Germania Street toward home.
It's really hot today. I somehow managed to install my window AC without killing my downstairs neighbor while she gardened. Days like this tend to hamper my productivity. I woke up at 11am and I've gotten very little accomplished.
I think I'm taking things as they come. My school year at work is winding down. Field trips, wrapping up projects, taking down posters for the kids to take home. There is little to plan.
I don't have a job in California yet. For some reason this isn't stressing me out. Perhaps because I have a padding in terms of money, since I'll be paid through July. Perhaps I'm just not really sure how to transition into post-MFA job applications. I'm not used to my new badge of honor.
Weave submissions are rolling in. We are still open for two more months and we have almost as many submissions as the entire previous reading period. I'm so impressed with the quality of the work people send us. I'm really excited to see our latest issue, which is at the printer right now. Should be ready to mail out in a couple weeks.
My online class is going well. It's a multigenre workshop I'm using to count for a nonfiction workshop. It's fun to read a variety of genres. I almost feel like all workshops should be like this. Good writing is good writing. Poets can learn something from plot structures and characterization. Fiction writers can learn something from line edits, careful attention to word choice, lyricism. We can all learn from the honesty of well-crafted nonfiction. I'm grateful to have this class to ween me off of grad school. I will miss that community.
I graduated last weekend. Technically I won't get my diploma until August, but it was great to walk across the stage anyway. My parents were there. The night before we had a reading with all the graduates. I won an award for Best Poetry Thesis. It's pretty incredible. I am hoping it keeps me excited about my manuscript. For now though, I've been leaving it alone, focusing more on writing and editing my prose.
It is supposed to thunderstorm today. I wish it would now, relieve some of the humidity. I don't like hiding out in my bedroom. It lowers my tolerance for the heat in general. If I sit really still on my couch, I'm ok. I still wish it was raining though. I'd go outside and lie down in the flower garden and rain along.
My weekend was filled with lots of tension, but then bounced back yesterday when I finally cowgirled-up and got over some of my anxiety about job applications. I'm super grateful to Beth Adams, editor of qarrtsiluni and Bridgette Shade, friend and fiction editor of Weave: they were both so generous with their feedback of my writing this weekend. Also, a prof of mine came to my aid with getting me some contact info for a poet I want to solicit; much thanks to her. Lesson learned: I still have a community of writers and mentors, despite leaving graduate school, despite moving away. I feel so blessed.
(poetic side note: these birds outside my window every morning, sometimes they sound like a million coins falling onto my kitchen floor.)
In my online adventures, there were so many good reads to share. First up is the May issue of Sampsonia Way, the literary magazine of City of Asylum. The article about the Afghan Women's Writing Project is so powerful and humbling. Seriously folks, City of Asylum is so worthy of your dollars. Considering donating.
Next up is this awesome article in the Pittsburgh City Paper about Fleeting Pages, in which I am quoted! I kind of rambled on and on in that interview, so I'm stoked she went with this quote in praise of Pittsburgh:
"Pittsburgh really has the right attitude," says Laura Davis, founder and editor of Pittsburgh-based Weave magazine, which will sponsor weekly readings, as well as workshops on poetry, how to get published and flash fiction. "Everybody here wants to pitch in and help."
Speaking of Weave, here is a bit about our workshop this week. I'm thinking of creating a scavenger hunt around Fleeting Pages. Oh I love this project so much! If you aren't in Pittsburgh, go buy some books on their ONLINE STORE. If you are in da' burgh, get your butt over to East Lib and buy some really great books.
I didn't plan on reviewing a movie on my blog, but I suppose it makes sense. I watch a lot of movies and while I don't frequently watch documentaries, The Pixar Story was really fascinating and bolstering for me as a writer and community-builder.
For the past two years, I've taught gifted education to students in grades 2-8. Each year we choose a theme and many of the lessons and units spring from this theme. This year I decided on "What is CREATIVITY?" All year we have done creative projects, some based on books, and students demonstrate their learning through individual and collaborative products such as posters, dioramas, skits, poems, models, reports, songs and more. The projects are always multidisciplinary in nature. We also talk about how we can look at the world with our "problem solving eyes" and try to find creative solutions that make the world a better place.
After watching The Pixar Story, I know I need to show my students this film. These are children who grew up watching Pixar movies. All my 10 year old students have cell phones. They have regular access to computers. Technology is so inherent to their life experiences, it is amazing to see the progress that has been made, technologically speaking, by pushing the boundaries of both art and computer science.
What I found to be most impressive and inspiring ends up being the key to Pixar's success. Time and time again, they make hit movies. For a while, Disney thought this success was because of the 3D animation, even (sadly) shutting down production for a while on 2D animated films. But really, when you boil it down, these are just good stories. Well-developed characters, inventive, imaginative worlds. New stories! Timeless themes like friendship, love, fear, growing up, change and hope.
The driving force behind the first few films, including the Toy Story movies, was Pixar animator and now Chief Creative Officer, John Lasseter. I love watching someone who is passionate discuss their story. This is someone who loves animation, loves storytelling. His nature really infected the entire culture at Pixar, which is very open and creative, often encouraging unplanned creative collaborations. These collaborations prove to be the life-sustaining force for Pixar. Ideas stay fresh. They are always up for a new challenge. These people love what they do and love the stories they tell.
I love intersections. After dating a few people in computer science, I am aware of how creative the field can be, though I'm not sure if that is the public perception. The movie really demonstrates the intersections between math, art, computer science, and writing.
My one gripe is that the film mostly featured men. The first woman featured in the film was John Lasseter's assistant. The second is a producer and the third is Lasseter's wife. I also realized that none of Pixar's films have central female protagonist. Apparently they are working to remedy this with their 13th movie Brave. It was also be directed by Pixar's first female director, Brenda Chapman. However, I'm a little irked because the character is a princess. Really? Come on, Pixar. I would have expected more from you. Why couldn't you make a female character that was a motocross racer or a sloth with magical powers? Or (gasp!) just a regular kid! *sigh* Then again, does WALL-E really have a gender? I mean, clearly they try to gender the characters, especially EVE, but that is us assuming their genders based on their behavior, which isn't the same thing. Though, I can't fault Pixar too much because honestly Hollywood is about as misogynistic as you can get.
Gender bias aside, the documentary is entertaining and inspiring for creative people from a variety of fields. As a writer, it's great to know that even with this multimillion dollar medium, a good story is what prevails. I'll be interested to see how my students respond to the film. I've come up with some questions for them to answer as they watch and then we will work on some group projects, hopefully with Pixar's spirit of creative collaboration fresh in our minds.
