I want to go to there.

I heard Tina Fey say this in 30 Rock and it seemed to make so much sense to me. "i want to go to there" said with an immense amount of desire causing one to zone out and fix gaze at object or dream in question.

I've been struggling with my writing since December and I've heard other people grappling with a writer's block (sometimes, when I indirectly label myself as a writer, I tend to blush.)thanks to the whole MFA apprehension. So I'm trying to angle out of it and write something everyday.. well at least every other day. Imagine, I'm finding it hard to ramble.

Life goes on here in Montreal..I have currently wrapped up my second session of volunteering at Maison De L'amitie and am waiting to teach my next class. I have, fortunately enough, landed a part time job teaching English to corporate clients. It's funny, that I consider the language to be my strongest point (GRE u can shove off) and still catch a shiver in my ankles thinking of teaching directors of finance the nuances of the language. I mean I don't really 'feel' for their profession, as in it doesn't appeal to me or anything.. I guess I'm scared that sometimes I don't mean to be a social person and they'll call me on it? gah..

So let me dwell (read obsess) over MY MFA application process. So basically I was done with my applications by the first week of January and then all we do is wait to hear if programs have started calling their chosen few. Yes, i said 'few' and I mean it. Consider the odds here.. a program has 4 spots for poetry and gets close to 500-800 applications in that genre. I have just one question. Really, when will the economy pick up so some people who want to work will go to work and then I can finally start on school? Just so I'm not facing THAT much competition! But here we are, I wait on faculty decisions hoping they see some spark in my writing and know that I'm capable of great poetic prowess.(are you reading, committee?). From what I've been told, in varying amounts of reassuring advice, I should be tremendously happy that I know what I want to do and am ready to do it. And that I am.

So here's what I say to the four programs that I'm waiting to hear from. I want to go to there.

I've always been in love.

Fry and Laurie- crack me up won't you!

Ani difranco

a Bit of fry and laurie

Seriously. Comic relief it is.

umm sometimes..

I have feelings concerning airports, bus stations, doorways and misunderstandings. It feels like my heart is cleaved to my chest which will detach itself from my body and fall onto the floor writhing in anguish and then lie fatally still. Then I bite a sliver of my lip, try to defocus and feel my eyes swiveling like marbles in directions they are not used to taking. My throat seems to swell like an itchy blister and I squint even when the sky lacks a sun. Not someone who can shrug goodbyes of any kind, I live with them for a while, till I am ready to shake loose.

Otherwise, I'm doing pretty alright. How're you?

My pointers for the day.

1) I think just this once, I might like to have a vague idea. Which way does the wind blow?
Winter is being sneaky and gentle at the same time.. sneaky with rearing its head every odd day, gently though, a slow reminder in the progressing month. We know and expect now for the sun to develop a sudden shyness to the beings of this planet at this time of the year. So there will be this sudden need to put in the extra effort to make everything cheery and warm and keep hard, frustrating thoughts, listlessness and hopelessness at bay. How long? one can only wonder... till we give in.

2) I might be giving in now.

3) Yesterday I arranged for the standing fan to look the other way while we slept. Yes I had the fan on in winter. Why? The suburbs get too quiet and stagnant and under my skin and so sleep is a fickle thing. I miss sleeping in humid rooms with a ceiling fan to stare at. Somehow I've always slept like a baby if there's a ceiling fan around. So this was my attempt to create some movement in the room. True, it is completely psychological and I did sleep well.
Even now, not a sound. What is everyone doing? It's a warm-ish Sunday at 10deg C and there's no one out, no children bundled up, screaming off to play just before lunch. NO ONE walking around to get someplace else. Everything is quiet and proper as always.

4) The tree outside my window was a bursting yellow, like her smile couldn't stay in her chest and burst into her face. It is now emaciated with twigs for hands and feet, crisscrossing over each other like a petulant child. She won't listen to my woes today.

5) I must get out of this rut in my head.