Haven’t been blogging—you see.  I’ve been slogging through the weeks, from Saturday to Friday, Saturday to Friday, Saturday to Friday.  Not quite having found a way into the writing community here, yet, I work silently away at the dreadful Pedagogy and the intimidating seminars.  It’s awful, trying to make headway, isn’t it?  Plunging into a new life?  Having to make new connections, learn a new lifestyle, etc.?  I have nothing but sympathy for myself, at this point, which is why I’m not really making headway.  Har har.

But I have made a few decisions, and I think they’re taking me in the right direction.  First, I applied for and got an Editorial Asst position with Grist, the litmag put out by UT’s creative writing grad students.  That will start in the fall, I think, or summer.  That will actually be great for me, I know.  I also sent out a bunch of poems to journals, litmags, contests.  The only one I’ve heard back from so far is UT’s contest for graduate students, and I got an honorable mention.  I was kind of embarrassed by this, initially, and completely discouraged, until I actually bothered to read work by the poets who placed.  Michael Levan, Josh Robbins, and Darren Jackson are all incredible poets, and (deservedly) well-published already!  I feel actually honored, now.  Another good thing.

Furthermore, despite the oppression of Pedagogy, teaching, and random busywork, I am writing.  This, I find, is what matters most to me.  I love literature, and I can half-enjoy teaching composition, but the more I write, and the longer I sit and talk with Dr. Smith in his office on Wednesday afternoons, the weightier my Writerly Work feels.  Which means I make more time for it.

Like this morning, when I came up to the library with coffee, to sit underneath this big window and all of the sky over Neyland Stadium.  Emphasis on “sky.”  I’m working on a sequence about my friends’ divorce, way back in the day, and having less trouble with it than ever.  The more I write, the less effort it takes to bring something out, to find some kind of graspable piece and make a manageable poem.  A manageable experience.  And, I find, the more I write about this particular subject, the more honest I’m able to become about it.  These poems actually mean so much to me that I’m not sure they really have—or need—points of access for other people.  I can’t decide if I should polish them up and send them out to litmags or not.  We’ll see.  The point is, I’m writing, and I’m writing what I need to be writing.  I think.

So, that counts as a tentative “yes” for the vote on whether I made the right decision, coming to UT.  Good enough.

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