I have three poems coming out in the 2008 edition of Washburn University's Inscape: "Grandpa," "My Dad's Hands," and "The Battle of Buna-Guna."
Proof that good things come from poetry workshops. Thank you, Elizabeth Dodd.
You'll see a patriarchal theme with these. Two are based on my Grandpa Lentz who died a year ago and the other is about my dad. I have a need to explore my relationships with my parents and grandparents. That's why you'll see me writing about my mom and dad and grandparents a lot. Not so much my brother because, well, we have a good, solid relationship.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
Wait
After having finally finished the epic paper saga on Thursday, I have since lapsed into a braindead state.
Friday was filled with icy weather and an anxious mind. I couldn't come down from the heightened state of the last month or more to just relax, plus I had a counselling session which always gets me thinking about the things that cause my anxiety.
Saturday was productive. I cleaned. You see, ever since my first semester at HCC, I have an intense urge to clean, organize, and purge at the end of every semester. It's a therapeutic event. I keep all of my old notes that I think could be pertinent in my future (I even have notes from my sophomore year in high school). I keep all of the essays that I've written in college. So I went through all of that and got rid of pounds of paper, condensed my load. It felt good to let go some of those tests from my senior Honors English class with Ms Groves. I didn't remember this, but did you know that I actually wrote essays in high school about the Backstreet Boys and my penpals associated with them? I was totally all about my KTBSPA license plate. Anyway, I was clinically obsessed. Those essays I don't file with my academic essays, but I have to keep them around so that I can pity my youthful self every time I see them.
Sunday and Monday were pretty much wasted days. My productivity level dropped to .5 on a 10 point scale. I'm exhausted, and my mind just does not want to study for a semiotics final. Plus, the weather is. . .bad, so I can't very well go out. And I don't have any money to go Christmas shopping anyway.
Now that the semester is pretty much behind me, I can look back and see what went wrong. I really don't think that the work load was any more than I had during any semester at K-State. It's the fact that it's graduate school that has skewed my mind. Ever since my senior year of high school, I have set these extremely high standards for myself, and I have met them every semester. I had high standards when the schools didn't expect that performance from me or anyone. But now, I feel like (and it's true) the school does have extremely high expectations of me, and now I have to meet them. It's not just me pushing me; it's me pushing me because they're pushing me. It's a different scenario than I've ever been in. It doesn't have to be this hard, but my anxiety came in to defend against the pressure...and it ended up hurting me. If next semester is going to be any better, I have to calm down and have confidence. Yes, graduate school is more work, but I made it harder than it actually was. So all of my complaining? It's my fault.
There's an ice storm outside. They might close campus tomorrow. That doesn't affect me final-wise--only in that we had scheduled a semiotics review session for tomorrow afternoon. But I do have to go to work. I love work, but it's going to be hard working a lot again. I know I definitely have to, though, because of the money thing. And there are books piling piling piling up for me.
I watched The Hills season finale tonight. (I know, I know. I'm lame.) I want to go to Paris. Again. I always wanted to study abroad, but I never got the opportunity. One of my life goals/dreams is to live in another country for at least a year. I want a vacation.
Friday was filled with icy weather and an anxious mind. I couldn't come down from the heightened state of the last month or more to just relax, plus I had a counselling session which always gets me thinking about the things that cause my anxiety.
Saturday was productive. I cleaned. You see, ever since my first semester at HCC, I have an intense urge to clean, organize, and purge at the end of every semester. It's a therapeutic event. I keep all of my old notes that I think could be pertinent in my future (I even have notes from my sophomore year in high school). I keep all of the essays that I've written in college. So I went through all of that and got rid of pounds of paper, condensed my load. It felt good to let go some of those tests from my senior Honors English class with Ms Groves. I didn't remember this, but did you know that I actually wrote essays in high school about the Backstreet Boys and my penpals associated with them? I was totally all about my KTBSPA license plate. Anyway, I was clinically obsessed. Those essays I don't file with my academic essays, but I have to keep them around so that I can pity my youthful self every time I see them.
Sunday and Monday were pretty much wasted days. My productivity level dropped to .5 on a 10 point scale. I'm exhausted, and my mind just does not want to study for a semiotics final. Plus, the weather is. . .bad, so I can't very well go out. And I don't have any money to go Christmas shopping anyway.
Now that the semester is pretty much behind me, I can look back and see what went wrong. I really don't think that the work load was any more than I had during any semester at K-State. It's the fact that it's graduate school that has skewed my mind. Ever since my senior year of high school, I have set these extremely high standards for myself, and I have met them every semester. I had high standards when the schools didn't expect that performance from me or anyone. But now, I feel like (and it's true) the school does have extremely high expectations of me, and now I have to meet them. It's not just me pushing me; it's me pushing me because they're pushing me. It's a different scenario than I've ever been in. It doesn't have to be this hard, but my anxiety came in to defend against the pressure...and it ended up hurting me. If next semester is going to be any better, I have to calm down and have confidence. Yes, graduate school is more work, but I made it harder than it actually was. So all of my complaining? It's my fault.
There's an ice storm outside. They might close campus tomorrow. That doesn't affect me final-wise--only in that we had scheduled a semiotics review session for tomorrow afternoon. But I do have to go to work. I love work, but it's going to be hard working a lot again. I know I definitely have to, though, because of the money thing. And there are books piling piling piling up for me.
I watched The Hills season finale tonight. (I know, I know. I'm lame.) I want to go to Paris. Again. I always wanted to study abroad, but I never got the opportunity. One of my life goals/dreams is to live in another country for at least a year. I want a vacation.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
KIOSK 37
The University of Kansas's magazine combining design and literature debuts its 37th volume today. You should check it out. I'm in it with the poem "Soak."
I'll have to thank that spider for getting me published...that is, if he wasn't--
I'll have to thank that spider for getting me published...that is, if he wasn't--
I bite my nails.
Past discomfort but
never to blood. Just
ragged fragments
of a supposed protection.
Just jagged shingles.
I bite my nails.
My dad used to tape
all my fingers or swab them
with who knows what.
I still didn't stop.
Even when I paint
each one to perfection,
hours later chips stick
to cuticles. Color flecks
on my tongue.
I bite my nails, but don't
think I don't want to stop,
be ladylike, prim, simply
trimmed. If only they weren't
so accessible to nerves.
All these nerves that make me
chew my lip, chew my inner cheeks,
chew on anything but especially
these nails. Biting down the layers
that could protect me.
--Kari Jackson, 2007
never to blood. Just
ragged fragments
of a supposed protection.
Just jagged shingles.
I bite my nails.
My dad used to tape
all my fingers or swab them
with who knows what.
I still didn't stop.
Even when I paint
each one to perfection,
hours later chips stick
to cuticles. Color flecks
on my tongue.
I bite my nails, but don't
think I don't want to stop,
be ladylike, prim, simply
trimmed. If only they weren't
so accessible to nerves.
All these nerves that make me
chew my lip, chew my inner cheeks,
chew on anything but especially
these nails. Biting down the layers
that could protect me.
--Kari Jackson, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
All You Want
I'm working. All day today since Semiotics was cancelled due to my professor's being ill. So I'm working on my semiotics paper. Suture in the literary analysis of Kate Chopin's "The Story of an Hour." Now, I know this story very well from writing two papers on it in Intro to Literary Theory (is that what it was called?) two years ago. I loved it, thought it was masterful. Others didn't. (wink, wink, Brian.) So here I am working with it again only on a completely different level. Not in terms of its symbols but in terms of the subject intering into the Symbolic order. Abstractness, I know. Don't hate me when it turns out to be a revolutionary study. A revolutionary study of suture in literary analysis in five days. I'm sighing right now if you didn't already know that from the hint of warmth that just landed on your neck.
Then there's my study of William Carlos Williams and Wallace Stevens. A creative piece, thank goodness. Once I get a handle on both of them, it should be fun. Like my creative Emily Dickinson essay was last year. But, once again, I'm juggling two of these freaking papers at once. Plus, my poetry portfolio (my own poetry) is due on the same day as this Williams-Stevens thing. Plus, I'm giving a reading at Henry's this Sunday of my own poetry for the first time ever. Plus, Jedsen's birthday is next Tuesday, and how am I going to see him? Plus, Beth is having her baby on Monday. Plus, our treasured book gets auctioned at Christie's on Monday. Plus, I tend to get anxiety from time to time about things like these.
Then there's my study of William Carlos Williams and Wallace Stevens. A creative piece, thank goodness. Once I get a handle on both of them, it should be fun. Like my creative Emily Dickinson essay was last year. But, once again, I'm juggling two of these freaking papers at once. Plus, my poetry portfolio (my own poetry) is due on the same day as this Williams-Stevens thing. Plus, I'm giving a reading at Henry's this Sunday of my own poetry for the first time ever. Plus, Jedsen's birthday is next Tuesday, and how am I going to see him? Plus, Beth is having her baby on Monday. Plus, our treasured book gets auctioned at Christie's on Monday. Plus, I tend to get anxiety from time to time about things like these.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Ties
I don't regret. But I don't forget.
Those old homes, sandstone,
sink in their bedrock underbellies
under my grown years.
Wherever I am, wherever the sills
collect my dust, I curl and claim
for the moment, but, so.
That rectangle of a childhood home,
stranger, rots. The dirt decades old
in the dandelion shag was dragged in
by someone else. My brother and I
never left our picture under the loose
carpet by the door; we figured it would decay
before another name could blame the floor.
I don't see myself in the blue walls
of a bedroom now labeled a closet, the blue
of a girl in love with the sky. I don't
need its stiff windows. Even the light
can't breathe.
And then there, that nook in a box
with too many beetles, even though
it was mine (no mice called Mom)
I don't need it. I never wrote my name
on the closet door or baked
sugar cookie into the oven bottom.
It's not mine.
Here, my philodendron in the corner, my
Poe on the shelf, my flats near the bed,
I know. When I go, whenever I go, this place
won't hold my name. I won't need it.
I am not tied to shag or picture
windows or certain hills. I would go
to Austria and make it mine. Or a farm
in Kansas. Or a square
in Melbourne. Only windows,
only windows.
--Kari Jackson, 2008
Those old homes, sandstone,
sink in their bedrock underbellies
under my grown years.
Wherever I am, wherever the sills
collect my dust, I curl and claim
for the moment, but, so.
That rectangle of a childhood home,
stranger, rots. The dirt decades old
in the dandelion shag was dragged in
by someone else. My brother and I
never left our picture under the loose
carpet by the door; we figured it would decay
before another name could blame the floor.
I don't see myself in the blue walls
of a bedroom now labeled a closet, the blue
of a girl in love with the sky. I don't
need its stiff windows. Even the light
can't breathe.
And then there, that nook in a box
with too many beetles, even though
it was mine (no mice called Mom)
I don't need it. I never wrote my name
on the closet door or baked
sugar cookie into the oven bottom.
It's not mine.
Here, my philodendron in the corner, my
Poe on the shelf, my flats near the bed,
I know. When I go, whenever I go, this place
won't hold my name. I won't need it.
I am not tied to shag or picture
windows or certain hills. I would go
to Austria and make it mine. Or a farm
in Kansas. Or a square
in Melbourne. Only windows,
only windows.
--Kari Jackson, 2008
Definition
An eyeless trout searching for a reef.
The fray of an unraveling hem.
A distant moon, orbitless.
A cat without her tongue.
An unsigned cheque to humanity.
A loose shoelace on a morning run.
A capless marker left to dry in the box.
A First Edition missing its spine.
The shot of pain before the toothache.
A glassless picture frame on your wall.
One move short of checkmate.
The interruption to your favorite song.
Eight fingers with a gun.
A calendar forever on April.
A surname with no first.
--Kari Jackson, 2007
The fray of an unraveling hem.
A distant moon, orbitless.
A cat without her tongue.
An unsigned cheque to humanity.
A loose shoelace on a morning run.
A capless marker left to dry in the box.
A First Edition missing its spine.
The shot of pain before the toothache.
A glassless picture frame on your wall.
One move short of checkmate.
The interruption to your favorite song.
Eight fingers with a gun.
A calendar forever on April.
A surname with no first.
--Kari Jackson, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Dust in the Wind
This is a semester for the ages. My first semester of grad school. Well, the last three or four weeks, in particular.
My computer crashed a week ago. Lost everything. All that wasn't saved on discs or jump drives or just so happened to be printed out or archived on websites. But now I have a new hard drive, thanks to my wonderful uncle Bruce, the computer prodigy.
The three-week transcript saga (one I don't wish to rehash again) is finally over. And, it seems, needed not happen in the first place (well, of course it shouldn't have happened, but I mean the transcript request nightmare might have been averted). Universities are terrible communicators. Have you noticed? The refuse to bother to look up your phone number. Instead, the wait for you to call wondering what the problem is. Or they just mail the form back to you unfilled. Or the mail just doesn't arrive. I love KU. I really do.
An another note, I'm trying to narrow down my paper topics. It's hard, let me tell you, but I'm so glad I have direction. And I just need to have the intense motivation. Which I'll for sure have once I get the topics down. 40 pages in 18 days. Painful. But I'm going to try to make it fun. Yes, try to make it fun. Creative.
Speaking of, it's back to it. Thursday night. My night when I normally do nothing because tomorrow's Friday, and I don't have classes. Can't spare too many moments these days. Thanksgiving will be only the day of. In Manhattan with my lovely family. Minus my grandpa for the first time; he was sick, hunched over on the couch, last year at this time, coughing, sleeping. He's in a better place now, and so is Grandma. She gets a big Thanksgiving in a big house with lots of family that love her.
My computer crashed a week ago. Lost everything. All that wasn't saved on discs or jump drives or just so happened to be printed out or archived on websites. But now I have a new hard drive, thanks to my wonderful uncle Bruce, the computer prodigy.
The three-week transcript saga (one I don't wish to rehash again) is finally over. And, it seems, needed not happen in the first place (well, of course it shouldn't have happened, but I mean the transcript request nightmare might have been averted). Universities are terrible communicators. Have you noticed? The refuse to bother to look up your phone number. Instead, the wait for you to call wondering what the problem is. Or they just mail the form back to you unfilled. Or the mail just doesn't arrive. I love KU. I really do.
An another note, I'm trying to narrow down my paper topics. It's hard, let me tell you, but I'm so glad I have direction. And I just need to have the intense motivation. Which I'll for sure have once I get the topics down. 40 pages in 18 days. Painful. But I'm going to try to make it fun. Yes, try to make it fun. Creative.
Speaking of, it's back to it. Thursday night. My night when I normally do nothing because tomorrow's Friday, and I don't have classes. Can't spare too many moments these days. Thanksgiving will be only the day of. In Manhattan with my lovely family. Minus my grandpa for the first time; he was sick, hunched over on the couch, last year at this time, coughing, sleeping. He's in a better place now, and so is Grandma. She gets a big Thanksgiving in a big house with lots of family that love her.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
We Never Change
I am addicted to Sour Cream & Onion Lays.
I just chopped 5 inches off my hair.
I want to live in a wooden house.
I have a boring wardrobe.
I have a stinky kitty.
I listen to iTunes lots.
I just came up with a great website idea...and then found that someone had it first.
I ate a Bacon Turkey Bravo from Panera Bread today. Tastiness.
I have been studying Lacan.
I don't know what I'm doing.
I want to write poems.
I need to write poems.
I need to write.
I am writing...in a way.
I have wet hair.
I enjoyed my extra hour today.
I spent an hour at Borders this morning in their cafe but didn't buy anything. $3.50 for a mocha? I don't think so.
I am listening to Coldplay. Play on.
I just chopped 5 inches off my hair.
I want to live in a wooden house.
I have a boring wardrobe.
I have a stinky kitty.
I listen to iTunes lots.
I just came up with a great website idea...and then found that someone had it first.
I ate a Bacon Turkey Bravo from Panera Bread today. Tastiness.
I have been studying Lacan.
I don't know what I'm doing.
I want to write poems.
I need to write poems.
I need to write.
I am writing...in a way.
I have wet hair.
I enjoyed my extra hour today.
I spent an hour at Borders this morning in their cafe but didn't buy anything. $3.50 for a mocha? I don't think so.
I am listening to Coldplay. Play on.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Telling Them
My, oh my.
I'm completely overwhelmed by everything right now. School, that is. I am right now working on a presentation and two small papers on Randall Jarrell for tomorrow's poetry class. I making my way through it, but I'd rather be sleeping. But then there are the two giant papers that are due at the beginning of December, and I can't even figure out what I'm going to write them on. I'm lost. I'm confused. I'm overwhelmed. I'm never taking two literature classes in the same semester again. Two workshops? Sure. But I dread forty pages of literary research/analysis.
In addition to that, I am not allowed to enroll for the spring semester until a hold is taken off my account. They need my final transcript from KSU. Okay, fine. Got a letter from KSU today saying there's a hold on my account there because of something at the health center. What the heck?! So, now I have more stuff to deal with tomorrow so that I can hopefully enroll by Friday...but that means more money out of my pocket. Damn them. I wish I had known all of this sooner. Before I tried to enroll and couldn't. And now I'm not going to get into the classes that I want and need. It's crap.
The past week and a half has been...down. I haven't felt well, especially in the morning. It doesn't matter how much or how little I sleep--I get a headache or feel dizzy. I need a break. I started counseling and am going again on Friday. I hope it helps me. I need to feel better.
Jedsen completely surprised me tonight when I got home from class. He asked if I had gotten what he had left on the porch for me. Totally confused, I open the door...and there he is with a big plate of jack o'lantern sugar cookies! Adorable. So sweet. I needed him. And there he was. I think this is the first Halloween we've seen each other--even if it was only for two hours and even if we didn't do anything relating to Halloween other than eat cookies. I miss him. But I love this living 30 minutes from each other. It makes a short trip more feasible and worth it.
Oh, Happy Halloween!
I'm going back to my presentation now. It never ends. The the.
I'm completely overwhelmed by everything right now. School, that is. I am right now working on a presentation and two small papers on Randall Jarrell for tomorrow's poetry class. I making my way through it, but I'd rather be sleeping. But then there are the two giant papers that are due at the beginning of December, and I can't even figure out what I'm going to write them on. I'm lost. I'm confused. I'm overwhelmed. I'm never taking two literature classes in the same semester again. Two workshops? Sure. But I dread forty pages of literary research/analysis.
In addition to that, I am not allowed to enroll for the spring semester until a hold is taken off my account. They need my final transcript from KSU. Okay, fine. Got a letter from KSU today saying there's a hold on my account there because of something at the health center. What the heck?! So, now I have more stuff to deal with tomorrow so that I can hopefully enroll by Friday...but that means more money out of my pocket. Damn them. I wish I had known all of this sooner. Before I tried to enroll and couldn't. And now I'm not going to get into the classes that I want and need. It's crap.
The past week and a half has been...down. I haven't felt well, especially in the morning. It doesn't matter how much or how little I sleep--I get a headache or feel dizzy. I need a break. I started counseling and am going again on Friday. I hope it helps me. I need to feel better.
Jedsen completely surprised me tonight when I got home from class. He asked if I had gotten what he had left on the porch for me. Totally confused, I open the door...and there he is with a big plate of jack o'lantern sugar cookies! Adorable. So sweet. I needed him. And there he was. I think this is the first Halloween we've seen each other--even if it was only for two hours and even if we didn't do anything relating to Halloween other than eat cookies. I miss him. But I love this living 30 minutes from each other. It makes a short trip more feasible and worth it.
Oh, Happy Halloween!
I'm going back to my presentation now. It never ends. The the.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Anchor
So much depends upon being content.
I got Snickers the adorable two year old kitten last Saturday! It was a little strange for several days for me. Not for Snickers, though. She made this her home almost immediately. I have had to get used to having someone to think about taking care of; I can't just run off for the night somewhere now without making sure she'll have enough food and water first. But now I love looking over and seeing her sprawled out on the couch sleeping. And I love it when she pounces on my feet under the covers, thinking that they're prey. I wish the smell didn't come along with her, but I'm doing what I can to keep that under control. I have a companion now, and I think it does make me feel a little better.
I managed to write a six-page paper in a day last week, which, strangely, made me happy, considering I spent 17 hours on the last six-page paper I wrote (due to anxiety). I talk to a counselor for the first time this week, and hopefully that will help me, too. I've been needing to go to counseling for some time now, and I'm finally taking the step to do it. Good for me.
Jedsen and I are spending the weekend apart again due to homework and GRE-studying. Bummer, but that's the way it's going to be until all of these projects we have going are done. I have two twenty-page papers to write in the next month and a bunch of poems to write/revise, as well. Grad school is not kind when it comes to down time.
Yesterday I got to have breakfast with Brooksie, my roommate when I moved to Manhattan, and it was wonderful. We haven't talked much since she moved back to Wichita in the summer of 2006, so we had a lot to catch up on. She's a great person and was a great roommate, but I didn't take advantage of her when we were living together. I've never been very close to girls--my best friendships haven't had the typical closeness you think of when you think BFF. So, I really didn't know how to be a fun roommate and friend. I spent a lot of time in my room doing homework when I was home and not a lot of time hanging out with her. Then, I was always with Jedsen on the weekends when I did have some time to do something fun. Thus, we parted ways that July barely more friends than we had been when we moved in together. I regret that. I had the opportunity to make a life-long, good friend, and I blew it. Nevertheless, we'll always have that connection of living together for our Junior year at KSU.
I'm headed to a reading downtown by my MFA-mates, then it's back to reading and homework. And snuggling with Snickers.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Octopus's Garden
Well, I'm on "Fall Break." Though, the only break about it for me is that I don't have poetry writing tomorrow afternoon. Of course, my favorite class is the one abandoned. I still have to work and write a semiotics paper for Monday. Semiotics is so confusing. Yet so fascinating. How do I write a paper using semiotics to examine a poem? Hopefully the next few days will tell me. The poem at the end is the one I chose to write about. Think about it.
Today I started getting pre-cat nerves. How is it going to be? Will the cat leave messes? Will she be happy? I'm still set on it, though. Everyone I've told has just been so encouraging about the health and general life benefits of having a pet. I'm sold. I'm going to call PetSmart tomorrow and see if Snickers is still there. If she is, I'll go over there tomorrow or Friday afternoon to get her. It's like bringing home a baby! (only not really)
I was just looking up graduate schools with MFA programs in creative writing for Jedsen. Didn't I just do that for myself? Yep. One year ago I was doing this. Only I made mistakes. I'm trying to guide Jedsen away from mistakes. It sucks that he's not even considering KU. I don't want him to go somewhere just because I'm there, but I want him to give it a chance. If he hates Lawrence (like he does), then he could just commute from Topeka. No, he says. So, he may be going to Colorado or Iowa or Nebraska or Arkansas or anywhere. Well, at least we will have had one year living "close" to each other before it gets even more long-distance than ever before, right? That's the nature of our relationship. Who knows if we'll ever live in the same city. Let me tell you, we've been doing long-distance for nearly three years now. We actually got closer when we moved farther apart because we were forced to communicate all the time. Weekends work for us because we're so busy during the week, but that's not the life I want forever. It would be nice to experience having a boyfriend who lived across town and not down a stretch of I-70.
It's finally feeling like fall here in Kansas, and that makes me happy. I'm tired of sweating all the way up Mount Oread every day. However, it's a little distressing, seeing as I have a very small cool-weather wardrobe. Not that it's ever been more, but every year it seems to be a little more pathetic. Please, please, please help me, "What Not to Wear!" Yes, it's my dream to have them tell me what will look good on this 5' frame. And what hairstyle will work best on my head (since I've never found it on my own). And what make-up suits me (since I'm kind of stuck). It would help if I were in shape. Then I would feel better in my clothes. Just go to the gym, Kari. Just go. I know how good it feels to work out, but it's the going there that's hard. I need to check out KU's fancy, big rec center, and I need to use what I'm paying for with my student fees.
----------------------
Protocols
(Birkenau, Odessa; the children speak alternately)
We went there on the train. They had big barges that they towed.
We stood up, there were so many I was squashed.
There was a smoke-stack, then they made me wash.
It was a factory, I think. My mother held me up
And I could see the ship that made the smoke.
When I was tired my mother carried me.
She said, "Don't be afraid." But I was only tired.
Where we went there is no more Odessa.
They had water in a pipe--like rain, but hot;
The water there is deeper than the world.
And I was tired and fell in in my sleep
And the water drank me. That is what I think.
And I said to my mother, "Now I'm washed and dried,"
My mother hugged me and it smelled like hay
And that is how you die. And that is how you die.
--Randall Jarrell
Today I started getting pre-cat nerves. How is it going to be? Will the cat leave messes? Will she be happy? I'm still set on it, though. Everyone I've told has just been so encouraging about the health and general life benefits of having a pet. I'm sold. I'm going to call PetSmart tomorrow and see if Snickers is still there. If she is, I'll go over there tomorrow or Friday afternoon to get her. It's like bringing home a baby! (only not really)
I was just looking up graduate schools with MFA programs in creative writing for Jedsen. Didn't I just do that for myself? Yep. One year ago I was doing this. Only I made mistakes. I'm trying to guide Jedsen away from mistakes. It sucks that he's not even considering KU. I don't want him to go somewhere just because I'm there, but I want him to give it a chance. If he hates Lawrence (like he does), then he could just commute from Topeka. No, he says. So, he may be going to Colorado or Iowa or Nebraska or Arkansas or anywhere. Well, at least we will have had one year living "close" to each other before it gets even more long-distance than ever before, right? That's the nature of our relationship. Who knows if we'll ever live in the same city. Let me tell you, we've been doing long-distance for nearly three years now. We actually got closer when we moved farther apart because we were forced to communicate all the time. Weekends work for us because we're so busy during the week, but that's not the life I want forever. It would be nice to experience having a boyfriend who lived across town and not down a stretch of I-70.
It's finally feeling like fall here in Kansas, and that makes me happy. I'm tired of sweating all the way up Mount Oread every day. However, it's a little distressing, seeing as I have a very small cool-weather wardrobe. Not that it's ever been more, but every year it seems to be a little more pathetic. Please, please, please help me, "What Not to Wear!" Yes, it's my dream to have them tell me what will look good on this 5' frame. And what hairstyle will work best on my head (since I've never found it on my own). And what make-up suits me (since I'm kind of stuck). It would help if I were in shape. Then I would feel better in my clothes. Just go to the gym, Kari. Just go. I know how good it feels to work out, but it's the going there that's hard. I need to check out KU's fancy, big rec center, and I need to use what I'm paying for with my student fees.
----------------------
Protocols
(Birkenau, Odessa; the children speak alternately)
We went there on the train. They had big barges that they towed.
We stood up, there were so many I was squashed.
There was a smoke-stack, then they made me wash.
It was a factory, I think. My mother held me up
And I could see the ship that made the smoke.
When I was tired my mother carried me.
She said, "Don't be afraid." But I was only tired.
Where we went there is no more Odessa.
They had water in a pipe--like rain, but hot;
The water there is deeper than the world.
And I was tired and fell in in my sleep
And the water drank me. That is what I think.
And I said to my mother, "Now I'm washed and dried,"
My mother hugged me and it smelled like hay
And that is how you die. And that is how you die.
--Randall Jarrell
Monday, October 08, 2007
Obsession
Okay, I am completely obsessed. Obsessed with getting a cat. I've wanted one for a while now, but my hope was squashed when I moved into this apartment because it would be too expensive. I miss the kittens back at my parents', and I snuggle with the four of them every time I'm there. I would ideally bring up my little guy, Dickinson, but he's not neutered and he's mostly an outdoor cat. I don't think he would adjust well to apartment living--despite the fact that I think he would be thrilled to finally be the alpha male.
For over a year now, I've been having anxiety. It started the summer before my senior year when I was preparing to live by myself for the first time. Though, it wasn't the living alone that was making me nervous, it was the imposing on my cousin and her family for the two weeks when I was homeless. I just felt very not like myself because I wasn't used to my surroundings, and I wanted to make my stay as easy as possible on my cousin. Well, it turned out to be a nice stay in which I got to know Melissa and the kids better (not to mention the dogs), and the anxiety went away after the first few weeks of school. Then I would get it somewhat when I had to write an essay. Writing essays is not my favorite passtime, so it always takes a certain mood to get me into the act. Understandable. The anxiety wasn't that bad--I'd always be able to calm down after an hour or two and get to work. Now, not that life is that different from last year, but the anxiety attacks are getting progressively worse. It's to the point now that I just can't do anything. Shortness of breath. Tingly hands. Fleeting memory. Constant hunger. Want to cry. Want to sleep. Can't concentrate on anything. I can't live with this--especially in my position in graduate school. I need to feel good and healthy and sane. So, I'm taking action, and I'm going to see a counselor at the end of the month. I've been needing to do that for a long time because I have a lot of self-esteem, confidence, and general issues that I would benefit from talking to a professional about. Truth is, I don't really have someone I can talk to about everything. I can't talk to Jedsen about Jedsen. Knowing that there's someone I can talk to that won't judge me and doesn't have any allegiances will be good. I also think keeping a journal/blog--something I did for 11 years and then lost time and energy for in the last 2 years--will help me get my thoughts on the page.
Anyway, so last week I came back to the idea of a cat. Pets can help your health. Having someone who is always anxious for me to come home and snuggle would calm me, I think. I can tell that it will be good because I'm obsessing over it. I went out and bought a litter pan, cat ped, scratching post, and food/water bowls today. I'm all ready. Thing is, Jedsen and I went to PetSmart in Topeka on Friday to look at the cats up for adoption. He found Gizmo, a Siamese kitten, and fell in love. He was a beautiful boy, but I have to get a cat over a year old, as stipulated by my apartment management. At the other end of the row was Snickers, a 2 year old Tabby. She got up and rubbed on my finger then licked me. She was really quiet and gentle--really just wanted to either be lightly scratched or go back to her cat bed. She has these gorgeous gold eyes. Anyway, I kind of fell in love. Ever since then, I've been set on her. Of course, she's in Topeka, and someone may get to her before I do. I've been on Petfinder.com so many times over the last four days that it's kind of sad. I hope to get her this week sometime--preferably Wednesday or Thursday night or even Friday afternoon. I want to make sure I can be home with her for a good length of time right after I bring her home. I mean, she'll have to get used to me being gone most of the day, but I want her to get used to her new home. I understand that a cat will be expensive--I've thought about it all again and again--but I keep coming back to the fact that a cat will make me feel better, and I think it's worth it. I'll find a way to make things work on the weekends and when I go to Hutch or any time I can't be home for a while. It will work.
My mom said today that she thinks I want something to nurture. Maybe partially. My friends are having babies. I don't want a baby right now, but I am jealous of that love and bond. I just want a companion. I want a friend in the morning and in the evening. Don't get me wrong--a cat won't replace Jedsen or any human, but it will be something.
And now, when I should be doing homework like I should have been doing all day and weekend, I'm sitting here writing about a cat. Basically, this isn't going to end until there's a little ball of fur curled up on the couch behind me.
Listening to: Starsailor
For over a year now, I've been having anxiety. It started the summer before my senior year when I was preparing to live by myself for the first time. Though, it wasn't the living alone that was making me nervous, it was the imposing on my cousin and her family for the two weeks when I was homeless. I just felt very not like myself because I wasn't used to my surroundings, and I wanted to make my stay as easy as possible on my cousin. Well, it turned out to be a nice stay in which I got to know Melissa and the kids better (not to mention the dogs), and the anxiety went away after the first few weeks of school. Then I would get it somewhat when I had to write an essay. Writing essays is not my favorite passtime, so it always takes a certain mood to get me into the act. Understandable. The anxiety wasn't that bad--I'd always be able to calm down after an hour or two and get to work. Now, not that life is that different from last year, but the anxiety attacks are getting progressively worse. It's to the point now that I just can't do anything. Shortness of breath. Tingly hands. Fleeting memory. Constant hunger. Want to cry. Want to sleep. Can't concentrate on anything. I can't live with this--especially in my position in graduate school. I need to feel good and healthy and sane. So, I'm taking action, and I'm going to see a counselor at the end of the month. I've been needing to do that for a long time because I have a lot of self-esteem, confidence, and general issues that I would benefit from talking to a professional about. Truth is, I don't really have someone I can talk to about everything. I can't talk to Jedsen about Jedsen. Knowing that there's someone I can talk to that won't judge me and doesn't have any allegiances will be good. I also think keeping a journal/blog--something I did for 11 years and then lost time and energy for in the last 2 years--will help me get my thoughts on the page.
Anyway, so last week I came back to the idea of a cat. Pets can help your health. Having someone who is always anxious for me to come home and snuggle would calm me, I think. I can tell that it will be good because I'm obsessing over it. I went out and bought a litter pan, cat ped, scratching post, and food/water bowls today. I'm all ready. Thing is, Jedsen and I went to PetSmart in Topeka on Friday to look at the cats up for adoption. He found Gizmo, a Siamese kitten, and fell in love. He was a beautiful boy, but I have to get a cat over a year old, as stipulated by my apartment management. At the other end of the row was Snickers, a 2 year old Tabby. She got up and rubbed on my finger then licked me. She was really quiet and gentle--really just wanted to either be lightly scratched or go back to her cat bed. She has these gorgeous gold eyes. Anyway, I kind of fell in love. Ever since then, I've been set on her. Of course, she's in Topeka, and someone may get to her before I do. I've been on Petfinder.com so many times over the last four days that it's kind of sad. I hope to get her this week sometime--preferably Wednesday or Thursday night or even Friday afternoon. I want to make sure I can be home with her for a good length of time right after I bring her home. I mean, she'll have to get used to me being gone most of the day, but I want her to get used to her new home. I understand that a cat will be expensive--I've thought about it all again and again--but I keep coming back to the fact that a cat will make me feel better, and I think it's worth it. I'll find a way to make things work on the weekends and when I go to Hutch or any time I can't be home for a while. It will work.
My mom said today that she thinks I want something to nurture. Maybe partially. My friends are having babies. I don't want a baby right now, but I am jealous of that love and bond. I just want a companion. I want a friend in the morning and in the evening. Don't get me wrong--a cat won't replace Jedsen or any human, but it will be something.
And now, when I should be doing homework like I should have been doing all day and weekend, I'm sitting here writing about a cat. Basically, this isn't going to end until there's a little ball of fur curled up on the couch behind me.
Listening to: Starsailor
Grandpa
Remember how you swung
my hand through the mall on Monday afternoons
and bought me corndogs from the A&W?
You plopped me in that wiry white chair and watched
me kick blinking sneakers into the bottom
of the table, ramming a mustardy dog into my nose.
You laughed, told everyone I was yours,
your granddaughter. Your trouble.
I watched, amused, when you flirted
with teenage waitresses, complimenting
their crimped hair and delicate hands.
You’re trouble.
You. You couldn’t let a neighbor’s yard grow
higher than yours, couldn’t keep your house
colder than eighty in the winter, couldn’t let anyone
drive your ninety-two-year-old bones
anywhere except to the hospital in the ambulance
when you couldn’t breathe and your body soaked
your shirt through.
But you sat propped in the emergency room
with oxygen and wires on your chest, heaves
between hiccups, and kept repeating that you had twins
and a granddaughter in college and can’t
you have some socks for your cold, calico feet.
When you died, I wrote a poem because
your son packed your army medals in a box.
Because the snow stopped. Because Grandma
can’t drive, the kittens were mewing for their milk,
and who’s going to rake the street gutter
after a storm? Because I last saw you flirting
with your nurse.
--Kari Jackson, 2007
my hand through the mall on Monday afternoons
and bought me corndogs from the A&W?
You plopped me in that wiry white chair and watched
me kick blinking sneakers into the bottom
of the table, ramming a mustardy dog into my nose.
You laughed, told everyone I was yours,
your granddaughter. Your trouble.
I watched, amused, when you flirted
with teenage waitresses, complimenting
their crimped hair and delicate hands.
You’re trouble.
You. You couldn’t let a neighbor’s yard grow
higher than yours, couldn’t keep your house
colder than eighty in the winter, couldn’t let anyone
drive your ninety-two-year-old bones
anywhere except to the hospital in the ambulance
when you couldn’t breathe and your body soaked
your shirt through.
But you sat propped in the emergency room
with oxygen and wires on your chest, heaves
between hiccups, and kept repeating that you had twins
and a granddaughter in college and can’t
you have some socks for your cold, calico feet.
When you died, I wrote a poem because
your son packed your army medals in a box.
Because the snow stopped. Because Grandma
can’t drive, the kittens were mewing for their milk,
and who’s going to rake the street gutter
after a storm? Because I last saw you flirting
with your nurse.
--Kari Jackson, 2007
Life in Lawrence
Now that I've been in Lawrence for two months, I thought I would update everyone on my life.
I am still working at The Dusty Bookshelf...only in Lawrence now. I started out working the register (something I hadn't done since Alco!), but after nearly a month and a half, everything got set up so I could go back to my job of listing books online. Now I sit in a little room in the back (that used to be a bathroom) at a computer and look through books. I do miss the Manhattan store because there was always so much going on (and I had more responsibility), but I am having a lot of fun here. I work 9-1 Monday through Friday, and since I'm the first one there I get to feed our lovely bookstore cat, Alice, every morning. I love being greeted with love and warmth (and of course persistent meowing for the sake of hunger)! Shannon, the manager, works the front during that time, and we have a lot of laughs.
Well, the reason I moved to Lawrence, of course, was for graduate school at KU. It was scary at first because I had heard about all of the differences between KU and K-State. Plus, I felt nervous about entering the MFA program because I thought everyone would be so much more experienced than me. But, from my first class (Poetry Writing III), I fell in love. I didn’t feel out of place at all on campus or in my class. I felt the same about my two other classes, American Poetry of the 20th Century and Studies in Semiotics, though I don’t love them like I love my Poetry class. American Poetry is allowing me to read poets I have not had the opportunity to read before, such as Gertrude Stein and Amy Lowell, as well as William Carlos Williams, whom I have admired from reading selections in former classes but never to this extent. Semiotics is very interesting but very confusing. For those of you who have never heard of semiotics before (like me before this class), it is the study of how meaning is created. It’s invading my mind. It seems like I can find a connection to some semiotic theory in every poet I read. Fascinating stuff.
I walk to and from class every day from my apartment, which is just a block north of campus. It takes me fifteen to twenty minutes to walk past the stadium, the pond, up the grassy hill, past the bell tower, and up to Wescoe Hall…I love it. It’s gorgeous at night. Standing at the bell tower, overlooking the stadium and north Lawrence, it makes me realize just how much I love being where I am right now. Watson Library, too, has a view of south Lawrence and everything beyond. From the fourth floor where I spend quite a bit of time, I can see out and over to the little towns on the horizon, with their single water towers like golf tees. It’s made me appreciate Kansas more. It really is a beautiful state—especially when you have a Mount Oread view.
On my walk between home and campus, I have encountered more wildlife than I ever have before in my life. One night while I was walking home from my night class at ten o’clock, a fox crossed my path on the stadium parking lot. He sat and watched me until I passed, and then he got up and followed alongside me (fifty feet away). It was amazing…but scary. I was completely alone. And despite the fact that I had pepper spray ready in my hand just in case, I didn’t want to take any chances with him getting any closer, so I went around in another direction where he couldn’t see me. It’s been two weeks now, and I haven’t seem him again…part of me really wants to…though I still don’t know how domesticated this campus-dwelling fox would be. So, that’s pretty exotic for the middle of a city, right? Well, that wasn’t enough, it seems. I was climbing some stone steps up a little hill behind the apartment complex last week. I skipped one of the steps because it was uneven and jumped up to the top step. Partially looking down, I noticed something move right by my foot when I landed. SNAKE!! I ran about ten feet then suddenly panicked, thinking I had actually carried the snake on my foot with me when I leapt. But, thank goodness, that was not the case. I looked back, and it was slithering over the top step and underneath the sidewalk. Okay, this snake touched my sandal. It went past me—not away from me. I could have stepped on it had I landed slightly more to the left! Holy cow. It freaked me out.
Something less wild but equally exciting…I am now a poetry reader for the school’s literary journal, Cottonwood. I get to read submissions from people all over the country (and some outside) and give their poems a yea or nay. I’ve only just begun, but this is my entry-level position for what I really want to do—edit. I originally wanted to be a copy editor, and that desire is still there, but I could easily see myself as a literary editor for a publisher or journal. Hopefully I can find myself an internship in the publishing field in the next few years.
As for home life, I love my apartment. I’m on the second floor, and I have a good-sized patio (which I desperately want a bistro set for). The living/dining room combination is small but cozy. There definitely isn’t room for anything more than what is here right now, though! My favorite room is probably my kitchen—not because I cook (I don’t have time) but because it has a little opening to the living room over the stove; it’s perfect for my height, ironically. And I have a window over my sink. (I’m pleased by simple things) I do miss all of the natural light of my last apartment, but I’m so glad to be ridded of that huge sliding glass front door. I have had a minor spider problem (as with everywhere I’ve lived), but I’ve learned I just have to kill them and be done with it. No beetles or water bugs this time, though!
I am now exactly thirty minutes from Jedsen via I-70—it’s so easy! Despite the closeness, we still don’t see each other any more than we ever have; our weeks are too busy. We got to make a little outing toward the end of August to his hometown of Carl Junction, Missouri. We walked around his neighborhood and schools and several of the places he worked at. It was a lovely, short trip. I’m glad to finally be able to visualize the places he mentions in his childhood stories. We talk on the phone every day, and lately we have been having long, deep conversations about poetic theory and the works of certain poets. We’re not nerdy. No, this is our craft. I like it.
I will be giving my first ever public poetry reading of entirely my own work on December 2nd in downtown Lawrence. I’m excited, but I had better have some good poems and/or stories prepared by then! I’ve never read into a microphone or for people outside of class. This is the big time now.
Okay, that’s about all there is for now. As you can see, my life revolves around school and work with a pinch of Jedsen on the weekends. And that’s how it’s going to be for the next three years of graduate school. This is where I want to be, and I’m so happy with the decision I made to take the chance and make the move to Lawrence.
I am still working at The Dusty Bookshelf...only in Lawrence now. I started out working the register (something I hadn't done since Alco!), but after nearly a month and a half, everything got set up so I could go back to my job of listing books online. Now I sit in a little room in the back (that used to be a bathroom) at a computer and look through books. I do miss the Manhattan store because there was always so much going on (and I had more responsibility), but I am having a lot of fun here. I work 9-1 Monday through Friday, and since I'm the first one there I get to feed our lovely bookstore cat, Alice, every morning. I love being greeted with love and warmth (and of course persistent meowing for the sake of hunger)! Shannon, the manager, works the front during that time, and we have a lot of laughs.
Well, the reason I moved to Lawrence, of course, was for graduate school at KU. It was scary at first because I had heard about all of the differences between KU and K-State. Plus, I felt nervous about entering the MFA program because I thought everyone would be so much more experienced than me. But, from my first class (Poetry Writing III), I fell in love. I didn’t feel out of place at all on campus or in my class. I felt the same about my two other classes, American Poetry of the 20th Century and Studies in Semiotics, though I don’t love them like I love my Poetry class. American Poetry is allowing me to read poets I have not had the opportunity to read before, such as Gertrude Stein and Amy Lowell, as well as William Carlos Williams, whom I have admired from reading selections in former classes but never to this extent. Semiotics is very interesting but very confusing. For those of you who have never heard of semiotics before (like me before this class), it is the study of how meaning is created. It’s invading my mind. It seems like I can find a connection to some semiotic theory in every poet I read. Fascinating stuff.
I walk to and from class every day from my apartment, which is just a block north of campus. It takes me fifteen to twenty minutes to walk past the stadium, the pond, up the grassy hill, past the bell tower, and up to Wescoe Hall…I love it. It’s gorgeous at night. Standing at the bell tower, overlooking the stadium and north Lawrence, it makes me realize just how much I love being where I am right now. Watson Library, too, has a view of south Lawrence and everything beyond. From the fourth floor where I spend quite a bit of time, I can see out and over to the little towns on the horizon, with their single water towers like golf tees. It’s made me appreciate Kansas more. It really is a beautiful state—especially when you have a Mount Oread view.
On my walk between home and campus, I have encountered more wildlife than I ever have before in my life. One night while I was walking home from my night class at ten o’clock, a fox crossed my path on the stadium parking lot. He sat and watched me until I passed, and then he got up and followed alongside me (fifty feet away). It was amazing…but scary. I was completely alone. And despite the fact that I had pepper spray ready in my hand just in case, I didn’t want to take any chances with him getting any closer, so I went around in another direction where he couldn’t see me. It’s been two weeks now, and I haven’t seem him again…part of me really wants to…though I still don’t know how domesticated this campus-dwelling fox would be. So, that’s pretty exotic for the middle of a city, right? Well, that wasn’t enough, it seems. I was climbing some stone steps up a little hill behind the apartment complex last week. I skipped one of the steps because it was uneven and jumped up to the top step. Partially looking down, I noticed something move right by my foot when I landed. SNAKE!! I ran about ten feet then suddenly panicked, thinking I had actually carried the snake on my foot with me when I leapt. But, thank goodness, that was not the case. I looked back, and it was slithering over the top step and underneath the sidewalk. Okay, this snake touched my sandal. It went past me—not away from me. I could have stepped on it had I landed slightly more to the left! Holy cow. It freaked me out.
Something less wild but equally exciting…I am now a poetry reader for the school’s literary journal, Cottonwood. I get to read submissions from people all over the country (and some outside) and give their poems a yea or nay. I’ve only just begun, but this is my entry-level position for what I really want to do—edit. I originally wanted to be a copy editor, and that desire is still there, but I could easily see myself as a literary editor for a publisher or journal. Hopefully I can find myself an internship in the publishing field in the next few years.
As for home life, I love my apartment. I’m on the second floor, and I have a good-sized patio (which I desperately want a bistro set for). The living/dining room combination is small but cozy. There definitely isn’t room for anything more than what is here right now, though! My favorite room is probably my kitchen—not because I cook (I don’t have time) but because it has a little opening to the living room over the stove; it’s perfect for my height, ironically. And I have a window over my sink. (I’m pleased by simple things) I do miss all of the natural light of my last apartment, but I’m so glad to be ridded of that huge sliding glass front door. I have had a minor spider problem (as with everywhere I’ve lived), but I’ve learned I just have to kill them and be done with it. No beetles or water bugs this time, though!
I am now exactly thirty minutes from Jedsen via I-70—it’s so easy! Despite the closeness, we still don’t see each other any more than we ever have; our weeks are too busy. We got to make a little outing toward the end of August to his hometown of Carl Junction, Missouri. We walked around his neighborhood and schools and several of the places he worked at. It was a lovely, short trip. I’m glad to finally be able to visualize the places he mentions in his childhood stories. We talk on the phone every day, and lately we have been having long, deep conversations about poetic theory and the works of certain poets. We’re not nerdy. No, this is our craft. I like it.
I will be giving my first ever public poetry reading of entirely my own work on December 2nd in downtown Lawrence. I’m excited, but I had better have some good poems and/or stories prepared by then! I’ve never read into a microphone or for people outside of class. This is the big time now.
Okay, that’s about all there is for now. As you can see, my life revolves around school and work with a pinch of Jedsen on the weekends. And that’s how it’s going to be for the next three years of graduate school. This is where I want to be, and I’m so happy with the decision I made to take the chance and make the move to Lawrence.
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