January Blues

I've noticed in my recent perusal of "People Who Post More Than Me" (scroll down, look on the right) that I am not the only one with the January blues. What is it about January? Dumb question: it's cold (see BC, for example; I'm very thankful I don't live in Chicago); the cold can make us sick (see A Room of Mama's Own); and for many of us, we just spent or are still spending a chunk of time away from "normal" or everyday life (see Long Vowels). I, for instance, am STILL technically on winter vacation. I apologize in advance for complaining about time off, but January is a terrible time for whole oceans of unplanned hours, unless you can fly off to a real ocean somewhere and sit on the beach, which I cannot. And the cold can make daily problems, the ones that would be present no matter what the season or weather, seem so much worse.

I'm actually better now than I was earlier in January, when the break stretched out before me like a desolate winter landscape. I've been getting ready for the classes I am teaching in the spring semester, and reading, and generally doing errands no one wanted to do all fall, like taking the spare key to the real estate place in charge of our (rented) townhouse. But this afternoon, I ran out of steam. I have things to do (my list: "files", "tofu meatballs", "Sestina"...), but I don't want to do them, really. My hands are too cold to type, almost-- the basement door was left open last night, and the 10 degree air seeped into our house from below. The house is still in recovery.

So, I thought I would ask a good, old-fashioned QuestionAir question-- how do you beat the January blues?

Here are a few things that have helped me so far:

1. Yoga, even if it's only 10 minutes.
2. Cooking, especially something hearty and complicated (hence the tofu meatballs above).
3. Making lists and checking things off (again, see above).
4. Daydreaming about summer and warmth. This morning I had to drive to College Park and I spent the whole time thinking about how much better it would be if it were summer, even really HOT, 100 degree summer. I'd be wearing a tanktop, sweat would trickle down my neck... My other daydream is to visit this spa, where you can go early and sit in the hottub. If you look closely at the prices, you will see why I am unlikely to visit this spa anytime soon, or ever. Still, I can dream.
5. Making lists and ignoring them. Hence this post-- actually, sitting here typing with a warm cat on my lap is helpful. So far in January I have chosen, rather than to check things off, to see Juno (in the theater) and Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (DVD), to go to Arlington, VA for no real reason, to build a fire, to make brownies, to read random plays, and to reorganize my closet. Okay, that last one sounds like something that would be on a list, but it was enjoyable.
6. Remembering that this too shall pass.

Hmm. Are these lame? Maybe other people have better ideas...

Tag

I was tagged by Discovering Recovering ( a long time ago!) to say 5 random things about myself.

1) I am in a constant state of changing my mind about my hair. I grew up with long, long hair. In college I cut it to a bob. Then I wanted my long hair back, so I grew it out. Then I cut it again. And so on. Now it's getting long. I watched an episode of the 5th season of Friends the other day, the one where Jennifer Aniston has a short, swingy bob. I'm trying to hold off this time. The fun of short hair has proven to be short lived in the past.

2) I love pajamas and yoga clothes. Since I've been a student again, there are whole days that I don't even get out of my pajamas or yoga clothes.

3) I am the caretaker of 9 spider plants. We got one spider plant last summer, and it got too big for its pot. When I repotted it I ended up with nine plants. They are all over the house, looking wilted due to lack of sun. I have to keep them up very high because Suki is addicted to them-- she gets very crazed and meow-y when she sees them. She crews their leaves down to nubs. Apparently spider plants are hallucinogenic to cats.

4) I am currently reading Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

5) I just signed up for a level 2-3 yoga class, where we do handstands for 20 seconds, and are working out way up to a full minute!

So, you've been asked to post a picture of your vulva on a blog...

Here is an excerpt from an email I got recently from my friend Julie:


Please join me in a collaborative, online feminist art project called VULVAlution.

In a world where women’s bodies continue to be objectified, medicalized, labeled, devalued, and hidden, we need space to understand and celebrate our bodies--and take control of the images created of them. In 2007, Oprah Winfrey talked about her vagina, using the language of Gray's Anatomy, the vajajay. Sometimes we call it "down there," "between the legs," “bits,” “cunt,” “twat,” "coochie" or "pussy." Whatever you call your vagina and vulva, how often do you look at your vulva and vaginal opening? How often do you dwell, then admire, then celebrate them?

This is what I am inviting you to do for a few minutes in 2008. Specifically, I invite you to photograph your vulva and vagina opening. Use a digital camera, a cell phone, a disposable camera, anything you'd like. Just spend the time getting a good picture of your vulva.

Then, if you would, send a picture and some thoughts about what the experience was like to VULVAlution@gmail.com. Tell me about taking the photograph--how did you do it? What did it feel like? How did you feel about the picture? What do you think about emailing it? Posting it to a blog? What do you think about the project, VULVAlution?

You're welcome to send poems, graphics, stories or other expressions inspired by the experience of photographing yourself. With your permission, I'll post them at VULVAlution, the blog at http://VULVAlution.blogspot.com. At VULVAlution, I hope that women will share their experience, make comments and who knows, maybe we’ll even create our own VULVAlution. You can send your photo anonymously, but you must have a valid email to verify that the picture is yours and that you are giving me permission to post it. You are also welcome to use your name - or not - just let me know your preference.

Here is her blog.

So, I've been thinking about this project. Like a good feminist, I got out my hand mirror. I've of course examined my vulva/vagina before: when I was a teenager trying to learn to use tampons, after every rereading of Our Bodies Our Selves. I can't decide what I think about this project, though. Does the world need a website on which women post photographs of their vulvas?

Part of me says yes, as the vulva/vagina is a body part, a nice one at that. I can see how a collection of photographs could be empowering, interesting, celebratory, educational. How it approaches a part of women's bodies that is often discussed (if it is discussed at all) as though it were embarrassing or dirty in a measured and non-pornographic way.

But part of me just doesn't want to put a picture of my vulva on the Internet. It seems private, both in a "what would my mother think?" way, but more importantly, in a, "that's mine, to look at in my mirror, and share with only people I choose" kind of way.

So. I haven't made up my mind. What do you think about this? Will you post on VULVAlution? Why or why not?

50th Post!

It's my 50th post!

Fitting for New Year's Day, I think. This evening I am making black eyed peas and greens and cornbread-- it'll be the first time I have practiced that particular tradition.

The big news in my life is that I FINISHED MY SEMINAR PAPER YESTERDAY! It's been emailed and snail mailed away. Now I can have my thoughts back!

This 27-page seminar paper was the most difficult thing I've ever written. It was a paper exploring the uses of blank space in poetry and connecting blank space to Claudia Rankine's Don't Let Me Be Lonely.

For most November, I wanted to throw myself off a cliff about the paper. Really. I really like Don't Let Me Be Lonely, and I liked the idea of writing about blank space. However, I truly have a love/hate relationship with academia, and sometimes writing academic arguments makes me wonder about the point of living, if one is going to spend one's time writing papers. I think it's partly because when I write about literature I get very overwhelmed at all the OTHER writing OTHER people have done, writing that I have not read, and I think there is no way I can ever read it all, and since I can't read it all ultimately my paper will be uninformed and pointless.

In general, I often feel very, very overwhelmed about all the things I have not read. All the poems, novels, essays, etc. It's a vicious cycle, because when I am overwhelmed about reading, as I was for most of the fall semester, I try to read everything very fast, which results in my not really digesting or comprehending the material. So then even what I supposedly "read" I don't really "get." And yet sometime I just can't calm down-- oh, I have to read this, and then this, and then this...

And the number of books I want to read never decreases.

Anyway, I have been trying, this fall, to add to my morning routine about half an hour of reading-- slow, relaxed reading-- a poem, part of an essay, a story. I am going to try to keep that up this winter and spring.

In any case, the paper is done, and in the end, I think I did learn a lot from writing it, even though it did result in about 20 books being added to my list of books I want to read. It made me think interesting things about feminism, feminist poetics, poetry, and even HOW one goes about constructing and composing an argument.

Still, as I finished the paper on Sunday, I felt like a weight was being lifted off my chest. I am so glad to have my mind back. Now I can think about my poems again! and start making my syllabus for the poetry workshop I get to teach this spring...

No more paper!

Word for New Year

Remember the post about a word to describe your city?

My excellent yoga teacher was telling the class about a friend she had who chose a word for every year. She then tries to “dive in” to that word all year.

One year her word was pleasure, and she noticed pleasure in her life, or opportunity for pleasure, and dove into all the pleasure that year. I imagine it as being a year full of hot fudge cake and satin sheets. It was, my teacher told us, a happy year. Then another year her word was challenge, so she dove into all the challenges. Apparently that year turned out to be very challenging, but she grew a lot, and reported that it was a better year that the pleasure year.

I’m trying to figure out what my word for the year should be. I’m having a hard time choosing just one. Here are some of the words I am considering:

Honesty. Sometimes I feel that I am not totally honest—not that I am big liar, but that I am fragmented, or reserved, un-aggressive, that I don’t totally express myself. Synonyms to the kind of honesty I am talking about are wholeness or desire. Choosing one of the words would involve being honest with myself and others at a level I am not sure I am operating at right now.

Pleasure. A year of hot fudge cake and satin sheets—enough said. Imagine diving into every opportunity for pleasure.

Courage. Although I am making progress, I have a lot of fears: of expressing desire (see above), of traveling (although we DID drive down to NC on 95!), of dying. I would like to be a braver person.

These are the three I’ve narrowed it down to for now. While I’m at it, I’ll go ahead and list my New Year’s Resolutions. They are more like goals, things I’ve taken baby steps about lately and like to develop. I’d like to continue to do yoga on my own and continue to write in the mornings. I’d like to send my poems out to some journals too. I’d want to continue to think about building a career that involves both teaching and writing. I want to try to visit my family at least four times and stop worrying about the future (buying a house, etc).

I think any of my top three choices for words would allow me to do those things.

Snow Queen

I used to be able to describe how I first saw her-- it was in a poetry class, and I was intimidated by something she'd said, and it was probably one of those cases where I thought I didn't like her-- the first thing I usually do when I start to make a good friend is think I hate her for awhile.

I wrote a poem that had Zoloft in it, or a reference to depression. She made a comment that made me know she knew what I was going through. Why don’t I remember it more? At the time I thought I had invented depression. I felt like the only person who had even been profoundly sad.

We became friends. There is a scene I remember vividly: the balcony of her high-rise dorm, early, balmy spring, Mango Snapple in a martini glass. A few moments of calm.

She is very honest. Once I called her in a kind of panic from my job and said, does this ever go away? She said, no. She said, but you learn how to deal with it.

From her I learned about sushi and wine and good cheese and making a studying schedule. And so many great bands. Once we drank an entire jug of Carlo Rossi wine in two hours.

When I think of her I think of beautiful, hip jewelry-- her rings especially. And wedge shoes. Scarves. Coffee shops. Driving places to eat-- she always knew of some interesting cafe or restaurant, and we'd pick at things till we finished them, and talk and talk.

I haven't talked to her in what seems like a hundred years, but she just left her husband. I haven't heard the whole story, but I imagine that move took a lot of honesty, honesty to self, the most important kind. And courage. Snow Queen, you deserve a special kind of purple heart, an amethyst ring one, perhaps, or a velvet one for your patchwork quilt.

The other night I dreamed of I was going to a city in Canada. I'm not sure which. I was arriving on a train/boat kind of thing, standing on a kind of balcony. Suddenly this gorgeous city appeared, a city of ice, framed by blue mountains and glaciers in the background. Everything was sparkle and shades of sky and white.

Fear-- Dedicated to T

Today, because it's Halloween, I want to celebrate a friend who did something that I consider really scary: after the break up of a long-term relationship, she moved to a new country-- continent, actually-- to live life on her own terms for a year.

She left behind a budding relationship, as well as a steady job, her apartment, her kitties, her car, her cell phone... all the things we tend to depend on to secure us to life. She moved without knowing where she was going to live or exactly what she was going to do.

I, who as we all know am terrified of even short trips in the car, am so impressed by these actions I can hardly wrap my mind about it. Whenever I do warrior poses in yoga, I think of T and her sense of adventure, the strength it takes to let-- make-- yourself have them.

I also love this friend because she read Eat Pray Love when I did this summer, and Harry Potter. So we had a little reading club.

And, she is the best conversationalist ever. She asks the most interesting questions.

Everybody, do something scary and adventurous today! And try Warrior 3-- http://www.yogajournal.com/poses/941 --

as you stand there balanced on one leg, try to breathe peace and strength and courage, to yourself if you need it, to your friends, to the world.