Not-So-Free Freelancer

It's Thursday, which means if you work a 9-5 job then tomorrow is Friday, as in TGIF! As in two days off. As in holy crap I need a break. As in time-to-myself. As in the weekend is nigh.

There are so so so  many things I love about freelancing. My schedule is really open and many of my jobs don't require me to leave the house. This time of year, this freedom becomes less free. In the last three months I've already worked 1/3 of my annual hours. That's 1/3 of the work in 1/4 of the time. If you aren't good at math and/or find fractions confusing, go fill a 1/3 measuring cup with water and pour it into a 1/4 cup. As you sop up the water you've spilled all over your counter, imagine that's me liquefied.

Since it's my third year at this, I've gotten a lot better at not completely ignoring my physical needs. Naps are essential. So are breaks, even mini ones to just warm my cup of peppermint tea. I say no to just about everything social. Lots of deep breathing. To keep my poetry-writing muscles toned, I make words my smallest unit. Word lists. Etymological research. Dictionary reading. A manageable task. Anything that makes approaching the page a little less daunting. Something that I can do while I'm exhausted. So, here for your reading enjoyment, and possibly a little poetic inspiration, are a few photos of my latest lingual collections.

Stress, Focusing, Impostor Syndrome and Other Adventures

I haven't written much lately. Life is sort of beyond stressful. Laughably stressful. I'm working a ton and writing all day for work just drains me.

Why not write at the beginning of your day, Laura?

Excellent question. Complex answers. 

Brevity is not a strength I possess and neither is being vague. I'd rather just say, "I'm struggling with [insert weird condition here]" and be done with it. For privacies sake, I will say instead that any given day I have a limited number of hours in which I can focus, which greatly depends on how well I've slept, whether I've been eating right, and the amount of physical activity in my week. Since most days I wake up tired, even if I've slept enough, eat pasta and cheese all day, and a walk down and back up two flights of stairs to get the mail causes my heart to race, my focusable hours are really at a premium.

The other problem with my writing life is that I don't do anything. I don't go anywhere or see people. When I have the chance to go somewhere and see people, I often make myself sick with anxiety over it (that's a whole other post). Having just recently come to the realization that I am both an extrovert and an introvert (ambivert?), I have a better understanding of my needs. I need both time with people and time alone to feel balanced. I've got the time alone racked up for years. If only it worked like that. This lack of general eventfulness in my life has made whatever I do write fall into the "Pit of Despair and Obsessive Navel Gazing" - which is bad, in case that's not obvious. In terms of writing material, I'm at an all-time low. 

Whatever focusable hours my stress level and natural tendencies afford me these days, I spend it on work. I have been getting things for Weave in order, which feels wonderful. And my chapbook sales went well. But not producing any new work right now has given me a nasty case of Impostor Syndrome. My general stream of thoughts when attempting anything bordering on poetry-writing or editing consists of:

This is crap. Why try? Get a different career.
How many times have you used the word "feel" in this poem??
OMG I'm annoyed by my self. 
You call that poetry?

It's actually much worse than that, but I'll leave those lovely thoughts for me and me alone. I know I'm just in a rut and I'll eventually get out, but it's really no fun feeling like a fraud of a poet everyday. It makes it hard for me to further promote my book, write reviews, or even take joy in reading the poetry of others.

I think it just boils down to the fact that I'm profoundly lonely these days. I've been in California for a year now and while I have friends, I have no close friends in the city. The kind of friends you can be a mess with. Maybe I do have those friends here, but I feel too embarrassed to risk breaking down in front of them. Depression is clinical. Loneliness is just embarrassing.

Knitting on a Roller Coaster

It's all starting. I had my first class at Chatham last night: a poetry workshop entitled "Inventing Landscapes" and led by poet Joy Katz. I'm already generating some work just after one class. I think I missed being around poets on a regular basis.

The status of my hard drive is DOA. I am trying to piece together older versions of my writing and work from May, which was when I last backed up. That was only because my keyboard was broken all summer. Hopefully Sal will be able to recover work from the summer. I hate the feeling of having my writing in all corners of the earth, spread across multiple computers.

I'm planning and/or participating in four events for Weave. Three of them are in September. The other is in February at AWP. Weave is going to have a kick ass reading in DC this year. We are partnering with A cappella Zoo and Ampersand Books. But this week I'm just going to be attending a reading: I'm going to Gist Street on Friday. Woot.

My stress level is ratcheting up up up, but I'm working on some healthy ways to calm down (down down) that don't involve eating lots of food in front of the television. I want to take a yoga class and I'm pretty sure I'm going to get a massage at least twice this semester. I'm counting it as part of my costs for going to graduate school. I've also been knitting when I feel stressed. I haven't knitted in years, but I remembered the general knit and purl stitches. As you can see, I've made some headway on what will become a scarf. Each little loop helps my brain unloop. I hope I can still manage to knit once things get really crazy.

Survival Strategies

I somehow managed to survive my first year in grad school. I have also managed to (almost) finish my first year of teaching. Additionally I managed to do more than just survive in a long distance relationship; we are thriving and I can't wait to spend part of my summer in California with the boy.

Now that I have all this time on my hands, I've been reflecting on the things that have kept me sane these past eight months. Here is what I've come up with:

• A good support network of friends and family
• Poetry Poetry Poetry
• Hugs from my students
• Yummy breakfasts at Quiet Storm
• Watching my poetry take new direction
• Eating, drinking and being merry
• Hulu and Netflix streaming
• Reading the amazing Weave submissions
• Manilla file folders

This list is in no way exhaustive, but it's a pretty good range of some of the places I've found solace. I will admit there were some other, not so healthy ways I've used to cope with stress (binge eat pizza all weekend!). I'm still learning a lot about stress management and what works well for me. From experience I've learned that no one thing is the cure all for everyone. I'm also learning who I can and cannot lean on, which is stressful in and of itself.  It's a process that I will continue to refine this summer in preparation for next fall. What are your stress management techniques?

I have also been thinking a lot about my thesis. I've been to read a book or so a day in order to really allow the work of others to shape me and my poetry. I want to be well prepared in the fall in order to ground myself amongst the work of others before me. What are you reading now? Suggestions?

One Down, One to Go

I am almost finished with one year of graduate school.

(Hang on, I need to write those words again.)

I am almost finished with one year of graduate school.

Ok, yeah that's about right. Well, sort of. I technically still have the summer and next summer too. But how did I get here? This time last year I was just getting accepted to my MFA program. I applied late, got accepted in April and from there on things became this spiral of events and movements, back bends and flips through fiery hoops. It also seems I will survive one year of teaching. How I managed both at the same time, I might never know.

I do have some insight. So much in fact, I feel that I may have actually become less wise, but more self-assured. By less wise I simply mean I am beginning to realize how much there is to know in the world. How much knowledge, the sheer number of words that have been put to the page, and how I will never read them all. I think I have learned so much about myself this year that I might need years afterward to process much of it. But I've also learned that life does not slow down or wait for you to catch up.

I have a lot of options in terms of my career and lifestyle that I have to begin researching. Should I go on for a Phd? Should I teach for a couple years first? Should I attempt a Phd in something else? I also have my personal life to consider. My partner lives in California and I would like to move to be closer to him. California is apparently desperate for public school teachers and I can easily transfer my teaching certification from Pennsylvania and look for work teaching middle or high school English and writing. I could also stay in Pittsburgh and continue teaching at my current job, since I have really enjoyed working with the gifted population.

With so many options, its no wonder I'm stressed.

I just dropped the SO off at the airport. He was in for a long visit and it's always so nice when he's here. But just when I get used to having him around, he has to leave again. In order to deal with this emotional stress, I'm going dancing on Saturday. Hardcore. I need to boogie away my tense muscles.