Hello Blog, Been A While
Just like that, a month has gotten away from me and the blogging was pushed to the side. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later after returning to work, but an entire month? The upside is we're on the downhill slide to the end of the semester. Just seven weeks to go, and if they keep slipping by like they have to this point, I'll find myself writing my next blog post with just a week left in the semester.
Work is work. I've now been teaching for 27 years, 18 of those where I currently spend my days. I've climbed the promotion ladder, reaching the top rung with nothing else to work towards. This is a dangerous spot to be in. I feel like I can just roll along, develop my classes, grade papers, and stay the course, not offering to do much more. I can arguably justify settling into simply teaching and not doing anything more for awhile since I've been involved in several special projects or said yes to doing assignments others didn't want over the last eight years or so. Part of me is saying take the opportunity to slow down. Another part of me is saying I should step up and offer my time where it'd be helpful. Definitely have some decisions to make.
Away from work, I'm still writing, still working on my chapbook. I have enough pieces now to start farming it out to publishers. I subscribed to a site that helps me research the different publishers, and I've found there are many, many smaller presses that could be real possibilities. I say that, yet I'm still getting rejections left and right from the literary magazines I'm sending my work to. If they don't want my work, I'm not sure why I think a chapbook publisher will. But, I guess the only way to find out for sure is to send my chapbook out.
During spring break I did take a break from writing. I took the train to Chicago and attended the evening performance of Hamilton. I found a ticket for $105 -- a steal! And what a wonderful experience! The music, the choreography, the story itself. Amazing. I think what sets Hamilton apart from other shows is the energy that it exudes. I'm seriously thinking about getting another ticket to see it again in May, after the semester ends.
I stayed overnight in Chicago, at the Cambria in the theater district. It was nice and comfortable. Nothing fancy. I wasn't in the room all that much, so I didn't need fancy. Instead, I was out enjoying the city. I spent several hours Friday afternoon at the American Writers Museum. It's a fairly new museum, and it's on the smaller side, but it is packed with really interesting exhibits. On two walls there's a word waterfall that is mesmerizing. I sat in front of it for quite some time, watching quotes and images flow across.
I left the museum feeling inspired by all the writers' voices whispering to me while there. I only had a little over an hour before my train was to leave Union Station, so I stopped by Willis tower to grab a chai tea. While I sat there people watching, I took out my notebook and sketched out a few poem ideas. I continued these as I waited before boarding the train, then added a bit more while on the train. The new poems I'm working on are a bit edgier than what I had been writing. At least edgier is the goal I'm going for. The voice is definitely sharper, the themes ranging from loss of innocence to betrayal to acceptance. I find myself struggling with revealing myself so openly, but I'm also finding myself becoming okay with things from so long ago, things I've carried with me for far too long. That's the beauty of writing -- it's cheap therapy.
Work is work. I've now been teaching for 27 years, 18 of those where I currently spend my days. I've climbed the promotion ladder, reaching the top rung with nothing else to work towards. This is a dangerous spot to be in. I feel like I can just roll along, develop my classes, grade papers, and stay the course, not offering to do much more. I can arguably justify settling into simply teaching and not doing anything more for awhile since I've been involved in several special projects or said yes to doing assignments others didn't want over the last eight years or so. Part of me is saying take the opportunity to slow down. Another part of me is saying I should step up and offer my time where it'd be helpful. Definitely have some decisions to make.
Away from work, I'm still writing, still working on my chapbook. I have enough pieces now to start farming it out to publishers. I subscribed to a site that helps me research the different publishers, and I've found there are many, many smaller presses that could be real possibilities. I say that, yet I'm still getting rejections left and right from the literary magazines I'm sending my work to. If they don't want my work, I'm not sure why I think a chapbook publisher will. But, I guess the only way to find out for sure is to send my chapbook out.
During spring break I did take a break from writing. I took the train to Chicago and attended the evening performance of Hamilton. I found a ticket for $105 -- a steal! And what a wonderful experience! The music, the choreography, the story itself. Amazing. I think what sets Hamilton apart from other shows is the energy that it exudes. I'm seriously thinking about getting another ticket to see it again in May, after the semester ends.
I left the museum feeling inspired by all the writers' voices whispering to me while there. I only had a little over an hour before my train was to leave Union Station, so I stopped by Willis tower to grab a chai tea. While I sat there people watching, I took out my notebook and sketched out a few poem ideas. I continued these as I waited before boarding the train, then added a bit more while on the train. The new poems I'm working on are a bit edgier than what I had been writing. At least edgier is the goal I'm going for. The voice is definitely sharper, the themes ranging from loss of innocence to betrayal to acceptance. I find myself struggling with revealing myself so openly, but I'm also finding myself becoming okay with things from so long ago, things I've carried with me for far too long. That's the beauty of writing -- it's cheap therapy.
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